Flash Sideways 2: Flash Sideways
by Side Quest Publications
Summary: In the main fic of the Flash Sideways saga, the Legends team explores the consequences of changing history when those changes affect someone with an eidetic memory. Leonard Snart recalls the events of Out of Time and Rogue Time (both from Season 1 of the Flash) as EQUALLY REAL. O.O.C. is Serious Business.
1. In Theory

**In which my efforts to fix some minor details totally screw me up and I accidentally replaced chapter 1 with chapter 4. And I didn't notice until I came in here to fix some _other_ minor detail.  
Oops. Fixing the chapter is easy enough... fixing the notes, not so much. And fixing things for any readers who might've come across this while the wrong chapter was in place... yikes.  
**

 **Anyway, a story in which Leonard Snart's eidetic memory has serious consequences when attempting to change history.  
**

 **Here we have a simple framing story, taking place on the Waverider, with Rip discussing the theory of eidetic memory _vis a vis_ time travel and trying to make sure Len understands why changing his own history is a Bad Idea.**

 **All characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

"A word, Mr. Snart?" Rip said. "In private, if you please."

"Ooh, looks like _someone's_ going to the principal's office," Sara said with a laugh.

Leonard refused to dignify the remark with even a glance her way. But when Mick got up to follow, he paused for just a moment. "Private means no eavesdropping, Mick," he said over his shoulder. "I think I can handle myself against our... _honorable_ captain."

"Yeah, whatever," Mick grumbled. "I was just getting a snack."

"Hmmm... of course you were," Leonard replied before he followed Rip into the captain's office. Once inside, the door closed and locked itself behind him, and Leonard folded his arms and sat on the desk, waiting for Rip to speak.

At least five minutes of silence passed before Rip sighed. "To be fair, I _am_ the one who asked to speak with you," he said, "not the other way around."

"About what?" Leonard said. His usual smirk was more pronounced at his obvious enjoyment of the captain's discomfort.

"What were you trying to do?" Rip said. "With that emerald, I mean."

Leonard shrugged. "I already said I won't apologize for that," he said. "This mission has always been about saving _your_ family; I'm just as determined to protect mine. I know," he added, holding up one hand, "I know. _You're_ the time master, I'm just the thief that time forgot. So you can spare me your lectures about changing history."

"No lectures this time, I promise," Rip said. "And I can certainly respect your wish to protect your family. But that isn't what I asked. What _exactly_ did you expect would happen? What did you want... what were you hoping for?"

"It's like I told Jax," Leonard replied. "My father was never the best, but he never raised a hand to any of us... until after he went to prison. I thought if he was never arrested for stealing the emerald..."

"And never made any of his unsavory 'friends?'" Rip suggested.

Leonard shuddered. "That thought crossed my mind," he admitted. "But if you know anything about me, you should know that the _only_ thing I care about more than stealing is protecting my sister." He shook his head. "But the moron still had to screw things up."

"That might have been a good thing," Rip said.

"Because I might've wiped myself out of existence?"

"That would have been the least of your worries." Rip muttered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the migraine that threatened. Getting into the mechanics of time travel with one of his teachers had always been bad enough, but situations like Leonard's went beyond _anything_ the Time Masters had ever understood. "Look, I know you don't want to be lectured, but I just need to make sure you understand how dangerous it was to try what you did."

Leonard looked... annoyed. Was he _extremely_ annoyed, Rip wondered, that he couldn't manage to hide it, or was Rip just finding it easier of late to interpret the man's expressions? "Go on," Leonard replied. "You were going to lecture me anyway."

Rip took a chance. "When we change time, it takes, well... _time_ for the changes to set," he began.

"Like cement, you said."

"Right," Rip continued. "Nobody's really figured out why. This phenomenon has caused endless debates among the Time Masters—and when I say 'endless' I'm not speaking figuratively—without anyone ever coming up with a logical explanation. But one thing that we have learned is that some people, time travelers in particular, are... resistant to those changes. No matter what else happens to history, we, on this ship, would not be affected until... well, until after we've already changed things. And the part of us that is the most resistant to those changes is our memory. Which if you think of it, is a rather useful tool, if an extremely depressing one."

Leonard cocked his head. "Useful..." he mused. "I suppose... If you succeeded in saving your wife and child, but could no longer remember any timeline but the one where they survived, you wouldn't have any reason to steal the Waverider; you wouldn't know they _needed_ saving. Or if you died in the attempt..."

"Yes, exactly. Not bad for the 'thief that time forgot.'"

"I've read a little science fiction. I understand the concept of the grandfather paradox, at least," Leonard replied. "You're saying that can't happen?"

"Not as such, no. Not so far as the Time Masters have ever determined," Rip said. "I mean, you _can_ write yourself or your descendants out of history that way, but again, it won't catch up to you until after you've actually made the attempt—from _your_ perspective as the time traveler." He shook his head. "To use my own mission as an example, though, the depressing part is that, though I would presumably know if I'd succeeded, I would never remember the intervening time; I would never remember the _changed_ timeline. For me, that timeline would never have existed." Rip took a risk and sat down on the desk next to the other man. "Now, in my case, Miranda knows—knew—that I'm a Time Master. She would understand if my memories of our time together wouldn't match up with hers... even if I never told her how I remembered things. But could you imagine trying to explain to your family..."

"Why I felt like my father was the most hateful thing to walk the earth?" Leonard suggested. "Why I still grew up to be a professional thief?" He shrugged. "Might make family reunions a little awkward."

"More than that," Rip said. "Your sister might fear and hate _you_."

"Worth the risk," Leonard said. "If I understand what you're saying correctly, then even if I'd changed things, I would want her to be safe just as much as I do in _this_ timeline. I'm still not getting why that would be dangerous."

"For the same reason I did not take Miss Lance up on her request to kill a certain friend of your father's before he was released from prison," Rip said.

"I didn't tell her that because I wanted her _pity_ ," Leonard growled.

"I know that. Whether you want pity or not, _no one_ deserves to suffer like you have. When I was researching everyone's timelines, I was tempted to make a few of those changes myself."

"But you don't want to disturb history," Leonard guessed. "You don't want to risk anything that could interfere with your own rescue mission."

"In this case, I was willing to take that risk," Rip admitted. "The reason I _didn't_ attempt to change your past is because I'd discovered you have an eidetic memory. Because you can remember most everything, even things you didn't notice the first time."

Leonard lifted one eyebrow. "I understand how an eidetic memory works," he said. "What I don't understand is why it's relevant."

"It's relevant because… because the Time Masters have precious little data on how changing history can affect someone like you. Which… which timeline you would remember. At the very least, you would retain the original version of events; changing your past, even _before_ you joined this team and gained that theoretical protection, would not make you forget what you'd suffered. In theory, though, you might have the capacity to remember _both_ timelines as equally real."

"And that would be dangerous, because…" Leonard prompted, his tone milder than normal. He looked away a little too quickly, but not before Rip saw the look in his eyes.

Leonard was spooked. Rip was certain this time; whatever thought had occurred to the other man had greatly disturbed him.

"I think you already know the answer to that," Rip said. "It isn't just a theory, is it? You do remember... other timelines?" He considered a moment. "Mark Mardon. When you tricked Mr. Allen and released the metahuman prisoners... that wasn't the first time you encountered him, was it?"

Leonard's eyes flashed. He sprang from the desk and only just barely avoided fleeing for the door.

In anyone else the reaction might have been nervousness, or perhaps a very mild fear, mild enough to maintain _some_ control, anyway. But when contrasted with Leonard's usual bland manner, it could have been nothing less than the edge of panic.

"Open the door, Rip," Leonard growled. "This discussion is _finished_."

"No," Rip said. "This is _exactly_ why we need to talk."

"Be careful, Captain," Gideon warned. "I'm sensing a change to his brainwaves."

"Well, obviously," Rip muttered. "He's afraid—"

"His fear is not normal," Gideon corrected. "But the change to his brainwaves is an entirely new pattern... a new personality, if you will, trying to push aside the old."

"Mr. Snart, you need to calm down," Rip said. "You need to understand... _we_ need to understand—"

Leonard whirled around to face Rip, making the captain recoil in horror. Rip couldn't name it, but there was something seriously wrong with the other man's eyes.

" _Open the goddamned door!_ "

"I'm sorry, but I cannot risk letting you back among the crew while you're like this." Rip kept one hand on his gun, and tried to palm a syringe with the other. If it came to it... would he be able to sedate the man before anything happened? Or would he be forced to shoot... to kill one of his crew? "You need to calm down, and _I_ need to know what's happening to you."

"Dammit, Rip," Leonard said, shaking and panting as he tried to control whatever was happening to him. "I remember _dying_!" His eyes cleared, and he slumped to the floor, his fear spent and his strength with it. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" he whispered. "I remember dying."

"Oh, my god," Rip muttered. He heard the epithet echo on the other side of the door, and he shook his head. "Seems I should've had Gideon sound-proof our... discussion."

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"No, Gideon, it's my fault. I didn't expect things to progress like this. Let them in."

The door opened, and only Martin entered. "We all heard shouting," he admitted. "The others are keeping Mr. Rory... restrained. We thought it might be best to find out what was going on before allowing him to, well..." He grimaced. "I should warn both of you that Mr. Jackson _is_ listening in on my thoughts and will tell the others if he thinks there is any trouble."

Rip nodded. "Gideon," he said, then he hesitated. "That... that other pattern?"

"Gone, captain. For the moment. Mr. Snart is still very agitated, but his brainwaves appear to have returned to normal."

"Hmm, yes, well, I'd like you to continue to monitor Mr. Snart for any similar... alterations."

"Yes, captain."

"He remembers _dying_?" Martin whispered.

"Just like you remember being married to Clarissa," Rip whispered back. "Even when that part of your history was temporarily, ah, broken."

"Yes, but I had a hand in changing my own history," Martin protested. "Unintentionally, of course, but..."

"Mr. Snart's case is a little more... complicated."

"Well, _that's_ quite the understatement."

Rip crouched in front of the man huddled and shivering on the floor. "Mr. Snart? Please, help me understand. Has anything like this happened to you before? These... other memories?"

Leonard jerked his head in a nod. "Nothing near as bad," he whispered. "Little things, usually. Things I saw on the news, or somebody I'd met at Juvie, and nobody else ever seemed to remember them. I'd just assumed... well, nobody remembers things perfectly, I just figured I was imagining things, and I learned to stop talking about it. Then in 2000..." He coughed, his mouth gone dry.

Martin fetched a glass of water and the two waited while Leonard sipped at it.

Leonard had drained half the glass before he continued. "In 2000," he said, his voice gaining strength, "there was this woman... Tess, her name was. Died in some car crash. I was in jail at the time; I had absolutely no reason to know who she was. But over the next couple of years, I'd constructed this elaborate fantasy in which she'd persuaded her husband—" he gave Martin a significant look "—Doctor Harrison Wells, to hire me on for some kind of prisoner rehab program. I never thought anything was strange about it—just wishful thinking—until years later, when I'd broken into Star Labs and discovered that one of the contracts I'd imagined myself signing was identical, right down to the last comma, to the one they created for... for the people they trust with their most sensitive projects." He closed his eyes. "I could recite the entire document right now if you wanted; the professor could probably tell me if it's really the same one."

"That won't be necessary," Rip said. "I believe it's the same. What about Mardon?"

" _That_ nightmare was one of the worst I'd ever had," Leonard admitted. "I thought I was going mad. But I can't... I don't want to remember it."

"That was no nightmare," Rip said. "Nor, I believe, was your work with Tess a fantasy." He glanced at Martin.

Martin shook his head. "Tess died in that crash because one of the Flash's enemies—a speedster from the future named Eobard Thawne—murdered Harrison Wells so he could take his place. Something about needing the particle accelerator explosion to happen at an earlier point in time, as I recall."

Rip nodded. "What you've experienced, Mr. Snart, is called a 'flash sideways.' Er... no relation to your friend Mr. Allen. Because those changes in history affected you, and because of your eidetic memory, you've managed to retain _both_ versions of events... something that even a time traveler cannot do unless they personally experience, _as_ a time traveler, both timelines. Something that has caused many a Time Master to go insane before we began to understand the phenomenon."

"I'm sorry, you said _insane_?" Martin repeated. "And yet you thought it was a good idea to bring him onto a time machine?"

"With Mr. Snart on the Waverider, I can at least monitor him if his timeline changes, and try to keep the damage to a minimum. Besides, all of the changes he described happened before he joined the crew." He turned back to Leonard. "Case in point... Mardon?"

Leonard glared at him. "You're not going to let this one go, are you? Even after I..." He shuddered.

Rip shook his head. "Given the way you just reacted, do you honestly think it's _safe_ to just 'let this go' without trying to understand it?"

Leonard considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "So you... you _don't_ think I've lost my mind?" He hesitated. "Yet."

"While I certainly can't blame you for being disturbed," Rip said, "for wanting to forget, I think the greater risk to your sanity lay in trying to suppress those memories without a clear understanding of just what you are trying to forget."

Leonard thought about this for a moment, drained the rest of the water in a single swallow, and nodded. "We'd been casing the Santini family for a few weeks," he began. "We planned to hit them later that day, so we met once more at this diner to go over any changes, any reason we might need to adapt the plan."

* * *

 **Next chapter takes place during The Flash... specifically season 1 episode Out of Time, before Barry hit the reset button.  
**

 **Linked stories:  
Len's memories of Tess will be covered in the prequel fic What Could Have Been... as will his reasons for being so greatly disturbed by the topic of remembering other timelines (in general; he pretty much just said why his memory of Mardon's attack specifically disturbed him).**


	2. Evacuating the City

**In which I show why Leonard Snart was thinking of Alexa and expand on/rewrite the "Lecturing Lenny" preview fic. (If you haven't read that one, it's just an older draft of the first scene here... ends with Lisa giving the full version of her lecture without Len interrupting her; if you _want_ to see the original lecture go right ahead and give that one a look, but if you don't care to see the full lecture then you're not missing anything if you skip it.)  
And we pretend, for plot reasons, that Mark Mardon was doing substantial weather damage to Central City _while_ he was building up his tidal wave.  
**

 **All characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

 **As also mentioned in "Lecturing Lenny"... y'all remember the pinky ring that annoyed Sara so much, right? ;) Also, I so need to come up with an image of the diner scene; I might like it a little too much. :)**

* * *

 _taptaptaptaptap_

"Still a pity you don't have those super guns anymore," Lisa was saying. "I'd love to see you guys in action."

 _taptaptaptaptap_

"Yeah, well, you know your brother," Mick replied. "He gets insulted when we use too much power against weaker enemies; he doesn't want anyone thinking he _needs_ a super weapon."

 _TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP_

"I mean," Mick continued, one eye beginning to twitch as the tapping got louder, "we only used them the last couple of times because he was obsessed with that speed freak."

 _TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP_

"But usually it's got to be 'ordinary bullets for ord—' god _damm_ it, Len! I am _this_ close to tearing that finger straight off!"

Leonard continued to stare pensively out the window, chin resting in the palm of one hand. He lifted the pinky on his other hand—and the offending ring—once more, glanced at Mick to gauge how serious the man's threat was, then folded both hands into his lap with a sigh. He returned to staring out at the darkening sky.

Lisa and Mick exchanged a bewildered look. "You're awful quiet this morning," Lisa said. She glanced at Mick again then added, "Quiet... _er_." She gave her brother a playful shove. "Come on, you've barely touched your food. You know grandpa would be upset if he thought you didn't like this place anym—hey! _Mick_!"

" _He's_ not eating," Mick said through a mouthful of Leonard's breakfast. "No sense letting good food go to waste." He grimaced. "Eggs are cold," he complained before devouring another forkful.

"I was thinking about Alexa," Leonard admitted before he could stop himself. He winced and braced himself for the usual lecture.

Lisa groaned. "It's been, what? A year now? More? _Why_ do you keep letting that bitch screw with your head? I love you, Lenny, and I would trust you about most anything else, but you have got the _worst_ judgment when it comes to sex. She—"

"That's _not_ why I was thinking of her," Leonard interrupted, before everyone in the diner could hear just what Lisa thought of his sex life... or the lack thereof. God, but his baby sister was the only one who could ever really embarrass him. "Remember how I said I felt about that job?"

"Yeah?" Mick prompted. "You said it was going to go south. And it did."

"Well, maybe if you'd cared more about the _job_ than in getting into her pants," Lisa muttered, clearly annoyed that she couldn't finish her lecture... never mind that she'd given him variations on it 438 times since that heist had gone wrong.

"I'm getting that same feeling now," Leonard replied.

Lisa and Mick traded a glance. "What, you want to quit?" Mick guessed. " _Now_?"

"We can go after the Santinis some other time," Lisa said, shooting a glare at Mick. No matter how much she blamed his lack of focus that day on Alexa, she still took his feelings seriously.

"I didn't say we couldn't," Mick grumbled.

"I don't know," Leonard admitted. "It isn't them. There's something else. Something just doesn't feel right."

The darkening sky chose that moment to open up above the diner with a spectacular crack of thunder.

" _God_!" Lisa whispered. "That was _real_ close." She glanced at Leonard, and started laughing nervously. "You really know how to time these things, don't you?"

Leonard continued to scowl out the window while Lisa and Mick went back to chattering over their food. As a result, he was the only one to see the cop racing for the door. "Hush," he said, silencing their conversation with a gesture.

"—some metahuman," the cop was telling the Motorcar's owner. The voice sounded like Eddie Thawne. "A thief named Mardon. Somehow he can control the weather. The Flash is dealing with the tidal wave now, but just in case we want everyone this side of town to evacuate."

Leonard could hear several more voices in the main dining area, and the other patrons heading for the door. The sounds weren't quite loud enough to mask the footsteps slowly approaching the private room where he waited with Lisa and Mick.

Mick moved to the end of the table, prepared to act as the crew's first line of defense. Leonard waved him back.

"Same goes for you three," Eddie said from the doorway. "You ever want to even _try_ another heist, I'd suggest you get as far from the waterfront as you can." He watched them carefully, never taking his hand away from his gun.

"And why would we do that?" Mick scoffed. "Come on, detective, you know how this works. You evacuate the neighborhood, and that's when the looters come out to play. We just want to join the fun."

Eddie shrugged. "Your funeral."

Mick sprang to his feet and shoved the cop to the floor, snatching the man's gun away as he went.

" _Mick_!" Leonard deliberately stepped in front of the gun and held out a hand to the fallen cop. "Thank you for the warning, detective." He pulled the man to his feet, took the gun from Mick, and returned it to the cop. "I _suppose_ we'll be leaving, then. But if there is any way we can help with the evacuation, you have only to ask."

"You're offering to help," Eddie said. He examined his gun as if looking for signs of tampering, then sighed and put it away. " _You_. Hoping to earn a pardon?"

" _Hardly_ ," Leonard replied. "This is _my_ city. I'd offer to take down this 'Mardon' for you if I had the gun from Star Labs. But I suspect taking on a meta freak like that with ordinary bullets would not be... wise."

Eddie shook his head. "Just go," he said. "Get out of here. All of you."

"You heard him," Leonard said over his shoulder once the cop had left. "Let's go."

"We're not _really_ going to do what he says, are we?" Lisa asked.

"Yes," Leonard replied. "As quickly as possible."

"Why?" Mick asked. "We've never listened to cops before. Why start now?"

"Alexa," Leonard said.

—

"Get on your own bike," Leonard told Lisa, when she moved to mount his bike behind him.

" _What_? But you're the best rider," she protested. "If we get separated in this—"

"Then we can find each other later," Leonard explained. "Outside of the city if we have to. It's going to be hard enough to control the bike with _one_ person in this weather." True enough; he was having problems keeping the motorcycle upright long enough just to _mount_ the thing. He raised his voice to hear himself over the wind. "If something happens to me while I have you as a passenger..."

Lisa finally nodded and went to mount her own bike.

The offer to ride together had been tempting, Leonard had to admit. He wanted to keep her close, certainly, to be sure she was safe, and—though he'd never mention this to her or Mick—taking her as a passenger might give someone else the chance to escape on the remaining bike.

But the risk was far too great. Better to escape separately than to find themselves trapped together.

Leonard watched his partners struggle with their bikes and, once he was sure they were ready, he led the way through the panicking city.

Three times they had to change direction—twice to avoid the packed streets and once to dodge flying debris. Finally they came to an alleyway, reasonably sheltered from the wind and too narrow for cars; several people on foot made their way to the same exit.

The three aimed their bikes directly at the alley and sped forward... and an instinct that screamed _danger!_ forced Leonard to swerve aside at the last moment.

Mick and Lisa, unprepared for his sudden change in direction, sped past him and into the alley, just as the walls began to crumble.

"No! _Stop!_ " Leonard called, but he couldn't even hear his own voice over the rumble of falling debris.

He got off his bike and approached the fallen wall, not even reacting when one of the runners grabbed the bike and sped off. "Lisa!" he called out. "Mi—" and then broke into a fit of coughing as he choked on the dust. "Mick?" he called again when he could breathe. "Lisa?"

The sound of gasping came from the other side of the fallen wall. "L...Len?" Mick called. "You... kay?"

"I'm fine," Leonard called back. "Mick! Mick, are you all right?"

"Ug... no. Trapped." Mick coughed, a nasty wet sound. "Think I... broke my leg." Another wet cough and a gasp. "And m'be... ribs," he added, his voice fading.

"What about Lisa? Is she okay? Mick, can you see her?"

"Lis... Not... with you?" Mick managed to reply before he broke into a fit of coughs and gasps, each sounding worst than the last, and then he fell silent.

"Mick? _Mick_? _Lisa!_ " Leonard examined the wall with a critical eye. Most of the pieces looked small enough... "Hold on, I'll get you both out of there!" He started pulling at the debris, tossing aside anything he could pick up. "Come on, Mick! Lisa, say something! You have to tell me when I'm getting close!"

Leonard had no notion of how long he tore at the debris, alternating between screaming Mick and Lisa's names, begging them both to reply, and choking on the dust that swirled with the wind.

But finally he could see to the other side of the debris... and the brick he'd just grabbed fell, forgotten, from his torn and bloody hands.

Mick, from what Leonard could see, had clearly breathed his last some time ago. And Lisa...

Leonard felt bile rising at the sight, burning a throat already raw from screaming. He barely managed to turn aside before he lost control of his stomach.

The dry heaves lasted for several long minutes before his body finally accepted that there was nothing to spit up.

* * *

 **I was originally planning to wait until I'd finished writing timeline 1.0 and then post all of it, but then I decided... neh, let's drag out Snart's torture for another chapter! (cue choking on a badly-done evil laugh)  
Actually, no, I was just noticing that this section was awful close in length to the first chapter ******(6 pages versus 8 in MS Word)** and I didn't know how long the next bit would be. It _might_ be a short one, from the looks of it, but I still kinda want to keep Timeline 1.0 and 2.0 as separate chapters, though... Don't know, we'll see.  
**

 **Oh, and the 438 times Lisa's delivered that particular lecture? The number I chose was only slightly random... and slightly meaningful; in my version of events the heist happened a few weeks before the particle accelerator exploded (was originally same day, back when one of my fics had them placed in Coast City), which... lessee, canon numbers...  
Clyde Mardon, according to episode dialogue, was shot and killed "six months" before this episode, and Barry was in a coma for _nine_ months before that due to getting zapped by lightning. Without knowing the _exact_ date this episode takes place I obviously can't be precise, but we'll say the explosion was a little more than 450 days prior to this scene. Which means if Lisa never gave that lecture more than once a day, then she's given it nearly _every day_ since the failed heist... missing only maybe a month in which she never gave it (most likely the first month out of sympathy for the _real_ reason Len had lost his focus that day, which I'll get into in a different fic).**


	3. Timeline 1-Point-0

**In which Leonard wanders the city alone, no longer caring about the danger he's in.  
We're still pretending, for plot reasons, that Mark Mardon was doing substantial weather damage to Central City _while_ he was building up his tidal wave.  
**

 **Kids and nurses copyright to me. All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

 **Ergh... chapter title is supposed to be Timeline 1.0 but apparently the site doesn't want decimal points in there... And I can't very well call it Timeline _10_.  
Oh, well.**

* * *

Leonard walked through the city in a daze, without any awareness of even being on his feet. He avoided the most dangerous areas—and the looters—not by conscious choice, but by instinct alone.

It was only when he felt someone grabbing him roughly that the instinct to protect himself jarred him out of his shock. He shoved his attacker away and snarled, ready to beat the other person into the ground for daring to touch him.

The blow never fell. The other person was no mugger, but one of the rescue crews trying to keep civilians away from the damaged buildings nearby.

Leonard stepped back out of the way and ran a critical eye over the crew and the building they were focusing on. It was a children's hospital—one of the ones he'd brought Lisa to far too many times before their father had threatened worse if he snuck out again—and from the shouting and crying, there were people trapped inside.

The rescue crew was not having an easy time getting in. The upper windows looked like they'd already shattered from hail, but the walls were too unstable for ladders to be of any use. And every attempt to open the doors at the ground level threatened to bring more debris down on top of the crew.

And onto the children still inside.

Leonard made a quick decision. He rushed at the building, ignored the surprised shouts when he used the crew's equipment as a springboard, made a grab for a second-story window, and threw himself over the sill to crash to the floor inside.

—

"Hey, mister," a small voice whispered. "Mister? Are you awake?"

"Ergh..." Leonard groaned. He slowly pushed himself to his knees, blinking and shaking his head as he tried to convince the room to stop spinning. He stared at the floor below him, wondered why it seemed so far away...

Then he threw himself back against the wall, panting as he realized how close he had come to killing himself. He had rolled right to the edge of a huge hole in the second floor and, judging from the debris below, the height would have been the least of his worries if he'd fallen.

"Mister," the voice called again. "Are you okay?"

Leonard nodded. "Yeah," he managed to say, his throat still painfully raw. "Yeah, I think so." He looked around until he saw the source of the voice.

A little girl stood a ways off, watching him from the stairwell. The hole separated them.

"Hey," he called to her, "I'm here to get you out of here. The other kids, too. Um... you wouldn't happen to know if there's another way around, would you?"

She pointed vaguely off to his left. "'Mergency stairs are that way," she said. "Got most of the kids up here," she added, pointing up her stairwell, "but my brother can't get out of bed."

Leonard nodded. "All right," he said. "Stay safe; I'll be over as soon as I can."

He found the stairs quickly enough—the place had been remodeled since the last time he'd been here, but the layout was still familiar—but navigating those stairs was slow going. Several of the steps crumbled under his weight and threatened to turn his ankle, and twisted pieces of rebar pushed their way through holes in the walls and ceiling.

The damage Mardon was inflicting on the city was serious indeed if a reinforced stairwell looked like this; it should be safe to bring the children down this way—safer than the other options, at least—but not for long.

Upon exiting the stairwell, he discovered that the floor had fallen away just beyond the door. Most of the supporting gridwork had broken away, leaving jagged edges all over and only a single piece of rebar that spanned the entire gap.

He eyed the gap; it was small enough—only just—for him to step over, but trusting his weight to the edge or the broken gridwork was another problem entirely.

It was no wonder the kids hadn't tried to come down this way.

He backed up as much as the damaged stairwell would allow, ran for the gap, and leaped over it, tucking himself into a roll on the other side.

The floor creaked beneath him, but it held.

Every second he spent in this ruined and shaking hospital only increased his worry, and it was with considerable relief that he finally met the little girl.

"They're in here," she said, and she took his hand and pulled him along. "Mr. Ben?" she called into one of the rooms. "Mr. Ben, Miss Marie, he says he's gonna get us out."

Ben looked Leonard up and down. "You're with the rescue crews?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Leonard admitted. He didn't even need to guess at what the two nurses saw. "I just found a way inside first. But I..." A rumble shook the building, and even Leonard was hard-pressed to keep his balance. "I can get the kids out a lot faster."

Marie opened her mouth to reply, when she stared over Leonard's shoulder in sudden fear. He whirled, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at...

The detective, Eddie Thawne.

"Detective," Leonard said. He holstered his pistol and turned his back to the man, dismissing him and the other gun as irrelevant. The _click_ behind him, and the faint relief on the nurses' faces, told him Eddie had put his own gun away. "As I was saying..." He knelt in front of the bed. "He can't walk?" he asked the nurses.

Marie shook her head. "Paralyzed from the waist down," she replied. "If he was younger—smaller—one of us would have tried to carry him out. I mean, it wouldn't hurt him any, not as bad as leaving him here, but as it is..." She shrugged helplessly. "He needs a wheelchair, but we can't get it out past all the damage."

"It's okay," Leonard whispered. "What's your name?" he asked the boy sitting there.

"Kyle," the boy muttered.

"Okay, Kyle," Leonard said. "You want to get out of here, don't you?" Kyle nodded. "Then why don't you come with me, huh? You and your sister and all your friends?" He didn't touch Kyle, merely waited for the boy to decide what to do.

Kyle finally nodded again and wrapped his arms around Leonard's neck.

"There you go," Leonard said.

"Sir... are you sure you can carry him?" Ben asked.

Leonard nodded. "It's fine. I still carried my..." His voice choked off and he had to clear his throat to keep speaking. "My sister, sometimes, even when she was bigger than him." He picked up the child, supporting him as easily as a man born to the task... or more accurately, a man with far too much practice at it. That the child was barely a foot and a half shorter than Leonard made little difference.

Eddie stared at him open-mouthed through the whole exchange, didn't even seem to notice when Leonard and the two nurses walked past him to collect the other children. He only reacted when the little girl reached up to take his hand and pull him over to join the group.

"Hoping to earn that pardon after all?" Eddie muttered when he caught up with Leonard. He forced a smile on his face for the little girl. "You know, I'm surprised your gang is okay with this. I figured you three would have been out—"

Leonard flinched and looked away, not daring to let anyone to see how easily those words hurt him. But the cop must have seen something, or perhaps Leonard's choked-back sob wasn't as quiet as he'd thought, because Eddie's own smirk slowly transformed to a look of confusion, then shock... then sympathy.

"I am so sorry," Eddie whispered after a moment. "I really am." He thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what, when this is all over... we get the kids out of here, I find my partner, and Mardon's behind bars—or wherever the metahumans have been disappearing to lately—I'll make sure you get the chance to see him. And whatever you decide to do when that happens... I'll tell my superiors it was self-defense. Deal?"

Leonard nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The group reached the place where Leonard had exited the stairwell, and he examined the gap again. How to get the children across?

Another violent rumble shook them. Leonard dropped to the floor, using his own body to shield Kyle from falling dust and debris as Eddie and the nurses did the same with the five children in their care.

When Leonard could stand again, and he peered through the dust, he had to clench his jaws shut to keep the children from hearing some very foul language.

The gap had widened, and far worse, the door behind them was blocked off by rubble.

"Please tell me there isn't anyone else in here," Eddie muttered, staring at the other door.

Marie shook her head. "Everyone else got out when they started evacuating," she replied. "These were the only kids left when the floors started breaking apart."

"Thank god for small miracles," Eddie said. "Now what? This was your idea, Snart; how do you plan to get the kids out?"

"Same way I came up," Leonard said. "Down those stairs." He set Kyle down on the floor, waited for one of the nurses to take charge of him, and approached the gap very carefully.

He considered the broken gridwork, then quickly dismissed it as useless. The pieces were close enough that the kids _might_ have been able to crawl across that like a ladder, but... No telling when these kids would find another functioning hospital if one of them got hurt on those jagged edges.

That single piece of rebar, however, still spanned the entire gap. It was far smaller, he suspected, than what even the most experienced performer would use; the size alone was reason enough to look for another option...

But the kids were out of options.

"You kids ever been to the circus?" Leonard asked. "Watched the tightrope walkers?"

The children shook their heads.

"Good," Leonard said with a smirk. "Because they've got _nothing_ on me." He spread his arms for balance and set one foot on the piece of rebar... then the other...

"You're insane," Eddie breathed.

"If you've got an alternative," Leonard said, concentrating on his footing, "feel free to suggest it."

He wobbled slightly as the building continued to shake, but Leonard made it across and back without incident, and stepped back off the rebar and bowed for the children's applause.

He hoped desperately that his smile looked more like a grin than a grimace.

"All right," Leonard said, pulling Ben to his feet. "I am going to take your _very_ lovely nurse—" he winked, and the youngest children giggled as Ben's face turned bright red "—across so that he can help the rest of you on the other side. Then I'll be back for Kyle, and then the rest of you will get your turn. Sound good?"

There were no protests, although Ben's eyes fairly bulged at the sight of the gap Leonard meant him to cross. Leonard shook his head; he'd _heard_ of people's eyes going big as dinner plates but this had to be the first time he'd seen it.

"Just keep your eyes on the door," Leonard muttered to the nurse in front of him. "Let _me_ worry about balance; I won't let you fall." But despite his reassurance, the crossing was much slower this time around. For one thing, the single piece of rebar was not made to hold even _one_ man's weight, and Leonard could feel it bending under their feet; for another, the necessity of keeping the nurse on his feet, of forcing his steps _exactly_ how Leonard needed them, meant he had no real way to maintain his own balance.

Ben was shaking by the time they reached the other side of the gap, and Leonard's face was starting to hurt from the smile he had plastered there for the kids.

And there were still eight more people to bring across.

—

Leonard was shaking violently by the time he reached for the cop. The oldest kids he'd walked across as he did the nurses, while the youngest two he'd carried on his shoulders. Kyle he'd had to take piggy-back. _None_ of that was easy, not when he had to keep everyone balanced and somehow manage the extra weight at the same time.

The effort was taking its toll on him, and the cop surely noticed. Eddie's eyes flicked about the room, darting from one potential exit to the next, _anything_ that could possibly be better than forcing Leonard to perform this trick one last time.

But there was nothing else. It was the balancing act, or hope that the rescue crews could get to them before the building collapsed onto their heads.

"Last time," Eddie breathed.

Leonard nodded. "Last time," he replied. "Then we all get out of here." He gestured for Eddie to step out onto the rebar first, just as the nurses had done, but he felt the cop flinch under his hands. "Just keep still," he muttered.

"Easy for you to say," Eddie muttered back. " _You're_ not the one trusting your life to a felon." But he relaxed slightly, enough that Leonard could guide his footsteps as he'd done the others.

They were nearly across when Leonard's exhaustion caught up with him.

He began to put his right foot down.

Misjudged the placement.

His shoe scraped past the rebar before he caught himself.

He instinctively shifted his weight to balance himself.

Felt solid rebar under his foot.

 _Snap!_ Pain ripped through his ankle as the rebar broke under him.

Leonard's hands tensed briefly as he sought desperately to grab something, anything that could stop him from falling. A half a second later, he shoved the cop toward the door, though the move thrust him backwards at the same moment.

He began to fall to the side, unbalanced...

A hand gripped his arm and _yanked_ him towards the door.

Leonard collapsed to his hands and knees in the stairwell.

"That was... close," the cop said from some point above him.

Leonard nodded. "Too close," he managed to gasp. He pushed himself to his feet, and yelped when he tried to put weight on his right foot.

"Snart—"

"I'm good," Leonard said. He twisted around to see where he'd hurt his ankle. "Just a scrape. No time to worry about it now. I... what do you think you're doing?"

The cop crouched down with his back to Kyle. "You're hurt," he said. "And exhausted. Do you honestly think you can carry him right now?"

Leonard shook his head.

"I didn't... oof! I didn't think so," Eddie said. He stood up with Kyle clinging to his back, and nearly staggered under the unexpected weight.

"Doesn't look like you're having an easy time, either," Leonard said.

"I'll manage," Eddie said through gritted teeth.

Leonard waved the two nurses off when they moved back to help him. "The kids," he said. Ben and Marie exchanged a look, then nodded and returned to lead their charges downstairs.

That left Leonard with his hurt ankle, and Eddie laboring under Kyle's weight, trailing far behind.

The effort to get the kids even this far had taken its toll on Leonard; between that and the struggle to keep walking despite his pain, he almost didn't notice when his instinct for danger started screaming at him.

He stopped. "You hear that?" he asked Eddi. The building was rumbling again, but it sounded different this time.

Eddie cocked his head. "Hear wh... what is that?"

Leonard's eyes widened. " _Move!_ " he screamed at the cop, shoving him and Kyle down the stairs.

Leonard collapsed on his injured ankle, but that pain was nothing compared to the sensation that exploded through his chest.

"Snart?" Eddie called.

Leonard couldn't see him through the dust.

"Snart, are you okay?"

"Just..." Leonard choked on the dust. "Need to... catch... my breath," he managed. The pain in his chest let him say that much, at least; the rebar that twisted between his ribs must have missed his lungs... barely.

A vague shape started to move up the stairwell. "Hang on. I'll be right there."

"No!" Leonard yelled at the shape. "I'll... I'll catch up."

The shape hesitated.

"The _kids_ ," Leonard insisted.

"All right," Eddie replied. "But I'm coming back."

Leonard waited until the footsteps faded, then he reached for his gun... which was pinned underneath his body. He couldn't get at it without moving, and the rebar that tore a hole in his chest was still anchored to the wall behind him.

 _He couldn't move._ There was no way he'd survive long enough to get help, and no way to end his pain quickly.

He had no idea how long he lay there, watching his life drip away as every gust of wind rocked the building and the rebar continued to tear him open.

The footsteps returned. "Snart! They're out. They're all safe, thanks to... _Snart!_ " The footsteps rushed towards him. "Oh my god."

Hands pushed at him, causing him to scream from the pain.

"Stay with me," the voice said. "The crew's got the doors open. They'll be here any minute. You stay with me."

Leonard couldn't focus on the voice. Couldn't focus on anything. "I need... to see... my sister," he gasped. He reached again for his gun, but he was too weak to even move his hand that far.

"No," the voice murmured. "Please don't ask me for that. Don't... we had a _deal_ , dammit! You can't back out now. You can't... we had a deal."

Leonard barely felt the tears rolling down his face. The pain in his chest was distant, like a bad dream. The deal... forgotten. The only thing that mattered was Lisa.

"I'm sorry," the voice muttered. A hollow _click_ sounded and Leonard dimly felt something cold press against the side of his head.

* * *

 **Thus ends Timeline 1.0. Next chapter will pick up Leonard's memories _after_ the Flash hit the reset button.  
**


	4. Reset Button

**In which Leonard "wakes up" the day before (specifically, the day the Santinis managed to get the jump on him and Mick, if you'll recall the way they entered the episode Rogue Time) and tries unsuccessfully to process _what just happened_?  
And then we go back to the Waverider as he finishes his narrative and Rip explains why things happened the way they did, and why changing his history is a Very Bad Idea.  
**

 **"That bastard" (well, _one_ of them, anyway, mentioned in passing) copyright to me. One of these days I'll come up with a name for him, but the characters referring to him that way certainly fits.  
All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

Leonard huddled on the road, his chest burning where the rebar pierced him, heard a squeal as the storm continued to tear the city apart, as he waited for Thawne to pull the...

Wait.

 _Road_?

He cracked one eye open... then the other.

Everything was still dark.

He opened his eyes wider. No, not _everything_. A light off to the side proved to be his motorcycle, lying where it had fallen after it slid out from under him. He could just make out the front tire spinning.

He blinked several times until he could see properly. His vision was still dim, but it was broad daylight, not at all like that morning's storm had been. No, this looked like... the day before?

The lights further out were from the truck. The squeal he'd heard must have been Mick, slamming on the brakes right after he'd seen Leonard go down.

"Len? _Lenny!_ " Two pairs of footsteps ran for him as he attempted to push himself up off the road. "Lenny, are you okay? What happened?" Lisa crouched down beside him and tried to help him stand.

He yelped when she touched a sore spot on his chest, startling her into letting go of him. He fell back to his hands and knees, shaking violently.

Mick crouched on Leonard's other side, but didn't try to touch him. "You're not getting sick again, are you?"

Leonard shook his head. He didn't _think_ he was sick. He quickly took stock of his condition. A few scrapes, where his riding gear hadn't quite been up to the task of protecting him from the fall. That sore spot on his chest, and another on his back; he must've hit the steering column on the way down.

The cold pressure against his temple was the metal buckle on his helmet; it had somehow pushed up past his ear when he'd fallen.

Nothing broken. No serious damage.

But he couldn't stop shaking.

"Lenny, _say_ something!" Panic crept into Lisa's voice, a note of fear she hadn't used since the last time their father had attacked them. "Look at me, please!"

Leonard tried to obey, to reassure her that he was all right, but for just one moment, all he could see was the mess he'd found under the debris...

As before, he barely managed to turn away before he lost control of his stomach.

This time, however, there was something in his stomach to reject.

Mick didn't quite move fast enough to avoid the splatter zone. "Dis _gus_ ting," he muttered.

"You _are_ sick," Lisa said. "Maybe we should stop going to the Motorcar. If their food isn't agreeing with you anymore—"

"N—no," Leonard replied through chattering teeth. "It—isn't them. It's Mar— _Mardon_."

Mick and Lisa shared a worried look. "Who... who's Mardon?" Lisa asked.

"Met—meta—human," Leonard tried to explain. "Controls—the weather." He finally managed to get to his feet, but the effort made him dizzy, and he was so weak he had to lean against Mick to keep from falling over again. "We—we need the guns—from Star Labs."

"What, did you _forget_?" Mick scoffed. "Cops had those things destroyed."

"Ci—Cisco Ramon," Leonard said. "He—built them. He can—build more."

"Maybe you should lie down for a while," Lisa suggested. "We can talk about this when you're feeling better."

" _No_!" Leonard snapped. "We need—those guns. Can't let him—destroy—the city."

Mick looked around warily. "You guys," he said, "I think we're being too loud out here."

Lisa nodded. "All right, Lenny. If it'll keep you quiet, I'll go see what I can do about this Cisco." She looked up at Mick, not even bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. "Take care of him. Please? This can't be like last time. It _can't_."

"I'll do what I can," Mick promised.

Lisa helped Leonard remove his helmet so she could strap it on her own head before she pushed his bike upright, mounted, and sped off back towards the city.

"Come on, Len," Mick said. "Lisa can take care of Cisco for you. Let's get you warmed up, okay?"

Leonard wanted to protest, but most of his strength was spent from shaking so much. He barely made it a few steps in the direction of the truck before Mick just picked him up and carried him over.

"You're too light," Mick grumbled as he set Leonard in the passenger seat. "You know that? Even with all that heavy gear on. Too _scrawny_."

Leonard tried to snicker at the complaint. All that came out was a quick puff of air.

"I got some blankets in the back," Mick said. "You going to be okay while I grab them?"

Leonard nodded. "I think so," he murmured.

"At least you've stopped shaking," Mick said as he walked away.

Leonard closed his eyes while he waited. He was fine. He wasn't getting sick, not like... not like the other times. The hours he'd put into planning this heist were wearing him out. That was all. He just needed to rest...

A stone clattered somewhere ahead of him. Someone bit back a curse.

Leonard opened his eyes. "Mick?" he said, his voice barely more than a croak. He twisted around to peer through the open back window, but the arsonist was still rummaging around and hadn't heard him.

Leonard's eyes closed again...

Then snapped open wide. That sound had come from _ahead of them_.

He was _really_ worn out to have missed something that obvious.

"Mick?" he called again a little louder. He reached for his gun...

And his hand met empty air. Damn it, of _course_ Mick had taken his gun; neither he nor Lisa liked letting him have a weapon on him when they thought he was sick.

The passenger side door yanked open, and Leonard found himself staring straight into the barrel of a revolver.

" _Mick!_ " Leonard called once more. He tried to back away, to scramble to the other side of the truck, to keep the owner of that gun from touching him. He almost fell out when the driver's side door opened up behind him.

"Oh, shit, _Len_! Hold on!"

Leonard fought tooth and nail to stay free of Santinis' thugs until Mick could reach him, but two more sets of hands dragged him out and pinned him to the ground. And even the rush of adrenaline wasn't enough to overcome his weariness...

The last thing he saw was the bag descending. Then a sharp pain in the back of his head, and everything went white... then pitch black.

—

"And the rest," Leonard said, "as they say..."

"Is history," Mick finished.

Rip groaned. "So much for _private_ ," he muttered. He glared at Jefferson.

"Don't blame the kid," Mick said. "I made him talk." He stared at Leonard. "That can't have been real. What you saw... you were sick. Delirious. That couldn't have happened."

"Felt real," Leonard murmured. He continued shivering on the floor.

"It _was_ real," Rip replied. "There are a few details Mr. Snart was vague on, things I assume he is afraid to remember, but the incident happened exactly as he described it."

"That why you don't want me killing that bastard?" Sara muttered to Rip. "I mean, I know you said Leonard would still remember, but I never imagined it could be _that_ bad."

"That's a very small part of it," Rip muttered back, "but yes."

"Then... how are they still alive?" Kendra asked. "If all of that _actually_ happened... Wait... the Flash?"

Martin nodded. "That must've been from the first time he went back in time," he said.

Leonard looked up at the professor. "I'm sorry, I must not have heard correctly. You said the _Flash_ went back in time?"

"Er... I... I wasn't with the team at the time," Martin admitted, "so I don't really know all the details, but, uh..."

"Ah, perhaps Gideon could be of service?" Rip suggested.

"Yes, Captain," Gideon replied. "When Mark Mardon, the metahuman known as the Weather Wizard, threatened to destroy Central City with a tidal wave, the Flash used his speed to generate a wall of wind to drain the wave of its power. In the process, several factors combined to cause him to go back in time a short period... a little over two nights. Despite frequent warnings from Eobard Thawne—known to the Flash at that time as his mentor Harrison Wells—to not interfere with the timeline, the Flash set out to prevent Mardon's attack before any of his friends could be harmed. It would seem that Mr. Snart's disorientation, when he lost control of his motorbike, coincides with the moment the Flash altered the timeline by capturing Mardon."

"Coincides with... or was caused by," Rip said. "I'd wager the two timelines snapping together might've affected you just a bit."

"You mean we have the _Flash_ to thank for the fact that we're alive?" Mick said. "Well, _shit_." He shook his head. "If I'd had any idea... I never would've let you go after that emerald. Sure as hell wouldn't have let you give it to your old man."

Rip stared at the arsonist in astonishment.

Leonard, however, quickly got over his surprise and looked _pissed_. "You would've stopped me," he snarled. "Knowing what that bastard's done to Lisa, to _me_. You would've stopped me from trying to _change_ it?"

Mick nodded. "Yeah. I would have. You have _no_ idea how dangerous it was to try what you did."

"So people keep telling me," Leonard muttered.

"But why?" Sara asked. "Speaking as someone who's _actually_ been dead in _this_ timeline, I'm sure remembering something like that is disturbing as hell." Leonard and Kendra both nodded. "But how could _changing_ it be any worse than leaving the original timeline intact?"

"I'm agreeing with Sara," Kendra said. "Now that we know, now that _Snart_ knows... It's at least something we know to watch out for. Right?"

"Mr. Snart's case is a trifle more complicated than that," Rip said.

"Because of his eidetic memory," Jefferson replied. "That's what you told Grey, right? But you also said you can monitor Snart's timeline so long as he's on the Waverider, keep the damage to a minimum. Why is that so complicated?"

"Why did he get sick?" Mick asked.

"Thank you, Mr. Rory," Rip said. " _That's_ why it's complicated. Mr. Snart, when you've experienced the flash sideways, you also became considerably ill, am I correct?"

"Who wouldn't, after seeing something like that?" Ray asked.

"Not that kind of illness, Dr. Palmer. No, this was a temporal illness. Not unlike the side effects from time travel, but in this case..." Rip sighed and looked down at the trembling thief. "In your case, Mr. Snart, that illness came from your difficulty reconciling the two distinct timelines. The more drastic the change, the more severe the illness."

"Speaking as someone who's reincarnated a few hundred times, you really can't get more drastic than dying," Kendra said.

"Er, technically you can," Rip said. "The type of change is certainly relevant; that's why his father going to prison for a _slightly_ different crime didn't have any effect, and why his biggest problem with Tess was taking nearly three years to reject that timeline."

" _Biggest_ problem?" Mick echoed.

"Insofar as the temporal illness is concerned," Rip amended. "Diagnosing and treating the illness is a completely different problem. But as I was saying, the most significant factor is _time_ ; how much of his life had changed."

"And when the Flash stopped the Weather Wizard," Martin said, "that only changed a couple of days. Right?"

"Correct. But changing the last forty years of his life?" Rip shook his head. "If you had been successful, Mr. Snart, the disparity between the timelines would almost certainly have killed you. I trust you can understand _why_ I must caution you against trying to change your own history?"

"Because it's dangerous," Leonard replied. "To _me_."

Rip nodded.

Leonard smirked. "But there's one thing you keep forgetting, Rip. The _only_ thing I care about is protecting Lisa. Now can you tell me, if I'd succeeded, if I _had_ made my father... better... Can you honestly tell me Lisa would not have been safer?"

"You stubborn son of a bitch," Rip grumbled. "You would throw your life away for a chance to make things even a _tiny_ bit better for your sister?" He couldn't decide whether he should be angry at the man or respect him for his dedication.

"You wouldn't do the same for Jonas or Miranda?" Leonard countered.

"That question is not fair," Rip said. He sighed. "I... I'd _prefer_ to stay alive to protect them, but if I honestly believed it would make a difference... yes. I would sacrifice myself for them."

"Well, then, _Time Master_ ," Leonard said, "as I asked... can you tell me she wouldn't be safer?"

Rip shook his head.

"I can," Mick said.

Leonard quirked an eyebrow at his partner.

"Funny thing is," Mick explained, "all this trouble is because of your so-called perfect memory, but you don't even remember what you did. All the times you've complained about us taking away your weapons, about Lisa bringing in help when she checked up on you..." He shook his head. "I remember the earful you gave me after she made Cisco help her that one time. And as smart as you are, you've never even asked _why_."

"Maybe I didn't think I'd like the answer," Leonard admitted.

"Damn straight you wouldn't," Mick replied. "First time you got sick like that... first time _we_ knew about, anyway... you didn't even recognize us. And I don't know if you thought you were being attacked, or what else was going on in your head, but... You pulled a gun on her, Len."

Leonard's mouth dropped open.

"You tried to shoot your own sister. Nearly shot _me_ , before you realized who we were. Scared the hell out of us."

" _That's_ why I don't want you to kill that bastard," Rip muttered to Sara.

* * *

 **Next chapter... aftermath. No more back and forth between Legends and The Flash (I think), just different scenes that didn't necessarily appear in Rogue Time, but occur around the same time, as Leonard tries to cope with this experience.  
And you have officially caught up with me; while I have written several chapters ahead in some of my fics, this is (at the time of posting) the last thing I've written in this one. Hope to get started on the aftermath soon! To be updated after I've re-watched Rogue Time... when my work schedule allows.  
**

 **And I have _officially_ begun confusing myself with this whole deal of changing how I refer to Len based on who the viewpoint character is. So I'm going to start editing my older chapters and just call him _Leonard_ in the narrative. This will make all characters go by their given/first names regardless of how the other characters would typically think of them.  
Unfortunately it won't be a simple "find/replace-all"; _dialogue_ will still depend on who's speaking, of course...**

 **Minor edit:  
** **Originally Rip just said about the memory of Tess was that the biggest problem Len faced was how long it took to reject the timeline. In that version, Mick did not react to the notion that that was the "biggest" problem, because it really _was_ the biggest problem.  
Well... I'm serious, my muse clearly hates me, because it can't stop coming up with ways to hurt my favorite characters. Though to be fair I did already include hints before my muse had actually dropped this particular bomb on me.  
Let's just say I"m trying to decide if the name of Tess should be another trigger for Len, though making it so would require more significant modification to a scene in chapter one. You'll see why it could be a trigger when I get around to writing What Could Have Been (which is about Len's memories of the timeline the Reverse Flash prevented) and also in League of Macguffins (which is about the team's quest to fix whatever the League did to Len in Majummed).**

 **'Nother minor edit.  
In Out of Time, the dinner Cisco refuses to go to seems to be the same night Mardon attacked that coroner (why else would Wells be asking him if he's supposed to be getting ready?)  
In Rogue Time, the dinner appears to be the next night.  
I'm editing for the Rogue Time version of events, seems to work a tiny bit better for me.  
**


	5. Aftermath

**In which the Rogues put their plans in motion to kidnap Cisco and force him to build new guns. And Mick is very serious about how sick Len's getting.  
The next few chapters take place entirely within the continuity of the episode Rogue Time.  
**

 **Amber (mentioned in passing) copyright to me.  
All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

Leonard kept watch out of the attic window, his eyes flicking occasionally to the monitors linked up to the security cameras. The only light within came from those monitors, carefully shielded to prevent anyone outside from noticing. But from this vantage point, he could see everything illuminated by the streetlights.

His phone buzzed.

 _You didn't tell me he was cute_ , Lisa's text said.

Leonard rolled his eyes. Maybe sending Lisa after Cisco had been a bad idea, but it was too late to change their plans now.

He deliberately ignored the large shape waiting in the doorway and went back to watching. It wouldn't be the first time a pretty face had distracted her from a job, never mind her many complaints about _his_ sex life. But this time his bizarre illness might actually work in his favor and remind her to get the job done quickly.

Or it might if Mick would quit trying to take away his weapons.

"We should've just gone to the lair," Mick finally grumbled, breaking the silence.

"Amber doesn't mind helping us fence our loot," Leonard explained patiently, "but she would _never_ allow us to bring prisoners into her home. You know that; there's no point in even asking her. Just be glad she's letting us use _this_ place."

"It ain't the prisoners I'm worried about," Mick replied.

Leonard turned around to glare at the bigger man, though he knew Mick couldn't see it in the darkness. "Aren't you supposed to be _guarding_ someone?" he snapped.

Mick grunted and walked away.

After what felt like an eternity—an eternity in which he had to keep shaking himself awake and checking to make sure Mick hadn't taken away his gun again—but was really only half an hour, he finally heard the sound of a car coming down the road.

The car stopped directly in front of the house.

Leonard flipped a few switches on the security panel, and one of the monitors changed to give him a close-up of the car and its occupants.

Lisa... and Cisco Ramon.

Leonard smiled. Perfect. He stood up, wavered only slightly, and went down the stairs to meet them.

"I can't believe this," Cisco was saying. "The day started out pretty terrible, but now it's turning out pretty damn good."

"I'll say," Lisa replied.

"Wow," Cisco said, finally noticing his surroundings. He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair. "Look at this, these are nice digs." He started walking around the room, admiring the décor.

"Oh, we're just squatting," Lisa said.

"We?"

"Yeah." Lisa took off that ridiculous blond wig and shook her hair loose. "Me and my brother." She flipped on the light.

"Hello, Cisco," Leonard said from the stairway.

The kid turned around to stare at him.

"What exactly _are_ your intentions with my sister?" Leonard asked, as he walked down the last few steps to face Cisco at a little closer to eye level.

"Oh, come on," Cisco protested. "I should've known better, I am not _that_ lucky." The irritation on his face turned quickly to fear. "Please don't kill me for kissing your sister."

Leonard cocked his head to eye Lisa over the kid's shoulder. "You kissed him."

"You're not _dad_ , Lenny."

"I know. Dad's in jail. Sterling role model."

Cisco turned away from him, not quite enough to keep both of them in view, but enough that he had a better chance to react if either of them made a move.

Not bad for an engineer with no criminal experience. Leonard might've been more impressed if the kid wasn't clearly assuming that _he_ was the bigger threat.

"What do you want, Snart?"

"Guns," Leonard replied. "Heat and cold to be precise."

"There's no way I'm making weapons for you. Never again!"

The kid had to know his life would be in danger for refusing. He just went up a few points in Leonard's estimation.

Time to move on to the next step. " _Mick_."

The door to the hallway slid open, and Mick walked in, throwing another young man to the floor before him.

The look of horror on Cisco's face told Leonard all he needed to know.

"I know I would do everything in _my_ power to protect my family," Leonard said. "The question is, will you?"

Cisco forced himself to look away from his brother and gave Leonard a look full of hate.

Leonard only smiled. "Lisa, why don't you see what kind of supplies we have and get your new boy-toy anything he needs?"

Lisa's eyes lit up.

" _Almost_ anything he needs," Leonard amended. "We can't have him getting distracted from any train wrecks."

Lisa scowled and stuck her tongue at him.

Leonard pretended not to notice, and turned to look at Mick. "Keep an eye on the other one," he continued. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut at the pain stabbing behind them. "I... I'm just going to lie down for a few minutes. Let me know if you need me."

"You know the rules, Len," Mick said before Leonard made it up three stairs.

Leonard froze, then turned back around to glare at his partner. He carefully put a hand to the pistol tucked into his waistband, not in threat, but to remind himself that it was still there.

Mick and Lisa, however, caught the motion. Mick stepped in front of his captive and withdrew his own pistol, never once looking away from Leonard.

Lisa, on the other hand, stared at Leonard with what looked suspiciously like fear.

"Wait, what did I just miss?" Cisco said, bewildered enough to let Lisa drag him out of the room.

Lisa, afraid of her own brother?

Leonard shook his head. No, she wasn't afraid of him. She couldn't be. He was tired and he was imagining things. That was all.

But he _wasn't_ imagining Mick's reaction.

Reaching for his own gun hadn't been one of Leonard's better ideas. He forced himself to slowly remove the pistol from his waistband and set it down gently on the table, but he continued to glare at his partner as he did so.

Mick still hadn't put his own gun away. "If I go up there and find out you've kept something..."

Leonard grimaced, but he removed a CO2 injection knife, another gun, and even a tiny whittling knife from hidden pockets in his parka and jeans and set them down to join the first gun. "Happy now?" he snapped. "Do the offerings appease Their Majesties? Do I have _permission_ to take a nap?"

Mick glanced at the weapons. "Yeah, go ahead," he replied in a mild tone of voice. "You haven't got anything else worth kicking your ass over."

"Okay, seriously, do I even _want_ to know what just happened?" Cisco asked.

Leonard didn't stick around long enough to hear if he received an answer.

* * *

 **Kinda wanted to keep going, length-wise, but in the interest of keeping chapters (somewhat) consistent I decided this would probably be a good place to stop. Makes this one a much _shorter_ chapter than the others thus far, but the alternative is either making it a much _longer_ chapter or splitting the next few scenes up more than I like.  
**

 **Next chapter, the necessity of looking after her brother forces Lisa to let Cisco know what just happened.  
**

 **Re: "ridiculous blond wig"... Chapter written more or less from Len's perspective. I figure he doesn't like the wig. :)**

 **Re: the assorted weapons. Yes, I have him carrying a shark knife (the CO2 injection knife). He may prefer guns, but if he ever has to resort to using a blade, that type of knife certainly fits the "cold" theme.**


	6. Fever Dreams

**In which the necessity of taking care of her brother forces Lisa to let Cisco know about Len's "sickness".  
The next few chapters take place entirely within the continuity of the episode Rogue Time.  
**

 **Amber (mentioned in passing) copyright to me.  
All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

"I have food!" Lisa announced a little over an hour later. She hefted the bags. "Mama Chow's for me, Big Belly Burger for Mick and the boys. Do not even _think_ of touching my milkshake."

Mick hastily put down the shake he'd been trying to sneak a drink from, and dug through the bags to set a burger down in front of Dante and select another for himself. He shoved the bag in Cisco's direction, taking care not to knock over any of the tools spread out over the table.

Cisco snorted. "You're _feeding_ us." He glanced at the burgers with a raised eyebrow before looking back at his work.

Dante eyed the two criminals for a moment before he sighed in resignation and picked up his burger and tried to eat, a manageable but messy task with his wrists still tied together.

Lisa shrugged. "I don't know what sort of people normally kidnap you, but I'm pretty sure passing out from hunger won't help you get those guns built any faster." She frowned. "Erm... Speaking of which, are you near a point where you can take a break? I need some help in the kitchen."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Mick asked between bites of his own burger.

"It's either that," Lisa replied, "or _you_ help and leave these two unguarded."

"He ain't going to like it," Mick warned.

"Do I _look_ like I give a flying fuck?" Lisa snapped. "He'll like it even less if something happens because I didn't have help."

Mick shook his head. "I'm not saying you shouldn't take the kid. Just making sure you know what to expect."

"Like any of us know what to expect anymore."

"Okay," Cisco said, setting the tools aside. "If you two are done being all mysterious, yes, I can take a break." He followed Lisa to the kitchen, then stopped for a moment. "There had _better_ still be a burger left for me," he called over his shoulder.

Mick chuckled. "Kid's got balls, I'll give him that."

"So... what exactly am I helping with?" Cisco asked.

"Nothing sinister," Lisa replied. "Just getting lunch for my brother." She rummaged through the fridge until she found the dishes she wanted.

"No Big Belly Burger for him?" Cisco scoffed. "Why, is he too _good_ for such common food?"

"No, he gets bland boring broth," Lisa said, pulling out two of the dishes and inspecting the contents of one of them.

Cisco lifted one eyebrow again.

"He's _sick_ , Cisco. He won't admit it, but he is. But he needs to eat, too, and this will be easier on him than all the grease and spices." She held up the other dish to the light. "Hand me some dishes?" she said, pointing in the direction of the cupboards. "Hmm... He should be fine if I mix these two."

Cisco grabbed a bowl and a serving tray. "Anything else, oh my lord and master?" he asked.

But Lisa ignored his tone. "Amber swears by this recipe," she explained as she dumped the broth into the bowl and added a bit of meat from the second dish. "Says it's been around for centuries." She snickered. "Well, that is true, but the way she talks, you'd think it was older than time itself. She always keeps a ready stash in case we need it, but Lenny's the only one I've seen touching the stuff."

"Am I going to regret asking what's wrong with him?"

It was Lisa's turn to lift an eyebrow. "Why? Looking for intel you can use against us?"

Cisco shrugged. She _was_ being oddly chatty for a kidnapper. A way to catch him off guard, no doubt; a headache wasn't he would call 'sick,' after all. But there was a small chance she might slip up and tell him something useful... as long as he didn't appear _too_ eager for details.

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, then. Because none of us have figured it out."

Or maybe she really was worried about her brother.

—

Cisco tried not to scowl as he followed Lisa upstairs.

It sort of made sense that she would make him carry the tray. With his hands full, he'd have a much harder time attacking her or running—never mind that Dante was a hostage downstairs—and dropping it would be a dead giveaway that he was going to try something.

What _didn't_ make sense was why she had him along at all. She could've carried it herself and made him keep working on the guns. So what exactly did she need his 'help' for? Had she pressed him into service just to prove that she could?

No... He thought back to that vague exchange earlier. _Something_ was going on, something to do with Leonard being sick, and it had her and Mick scared. The real question was, could Cisco find some advantage in that, or should he be scared, too?

Lisa finally stopped in front of one of the doors.

Cisco sighed. One way or another, he'd get his answer soon.

Lisa knocked on the door lightly. "Lenny? We've got lunch... Len..." She tensed up and stood to the side before opening the door.

Cisco was getting more worried by the second.

But nothing happened, and Lisa waved him inside.

Cisco stepped past the doorway and he stopped, gaping.

Leonard looked absolutely _terrible_. He was sprawled across the bed, looking for all the world like he'd simply passed out before he could do more than undress. But the blankets and pillows all over the floor, and the sheets torn free and tangled around him, were proof that his sleep hadn't been anywhere near that peaceful.

He was drenched in sweat, yet he shivered like he couldn't get warm enough. And his skin had an eerie gray tint that made a nasty bruise on his back look extra nasty.

Cisco didn't have Caitlin's medical expertise, but he could honestly say he'd seen corpses that looked better. No wonder Lisa was worried; had it really only been an hour since Leonard had been downstairs, looking, well... _normal_?

"I'm not going to catch whatever he's got if I get near him, right?" he asked quietly.

"He isn't contagious," Lisa replied.

Cisco turned around to look at her. "I thought you said you didn't know what's wrong with him."

Lisa scoffed and took the tray out of his hands.

"What?" Cisco asked. " _What_?"

Lisa only shook her head and carried the tray over to lay it on an end table. Despite her derision, Cisco couldn't help but notice that she kept the table between herself and the bed... even though the position of the table made the maneuver awkward.

Once that task was done, she hesitated, then reached out to fix the bedding. She was gently pushing one of Leonard's ankles aside to finish pulling the sheets free when his eyes snapped open.

Cisco sprang back nearly as fast as Lisa.

It felt like his heart would never stop pounding. Cisco was used to the way Barry moved... as much as anyone who wasn't a speedster could be used to it. But it just didn't compare to seeing Leonard go straight from sprawled out unconscious to wide awake and ready to fight in the span of a heartbeat.

And that was _before_ he reminded himself that Leonard was a killer.

Leonard tried to kick free of the sheets, trapped himself in them again, and thrashed around until the end table started rocking.

Cisco stepped forward, intent on rescuing the food that Lisa had been so careful to prepare, but Lisa grabbed him and pulled him back. He could feel her hand trembling on his arm.

Leonard finally stopped thrashing once he'd freed himself from the sheets, but Cisco wasn't foolish enough to think he'd calmed down. The man's eyes darted around the room, looking for... for what, Cisco couldn't guess.

There was no recognition in those eyes.

"Lenny?" Lisa called softly. Her voice was shaking more than she was. "Lenny, it's me. It's Lisa... your _sister_. It's okay, you just had a bad dream. That's all, it's a bad dream."

Leonard's eyes focused on her, and she flinched back from the wild look in them.

She nudged Cisco back towards the door.

"Li... Lisa?" Leonard said in a rough voice. His eyes cleared and he sagged back down to the bed.

"Are you okay?" Lisa asked.

Leonard nodded. "One hell of a nightmare," he mumbled. He closed his eyes again and rubbed at a vivid bruise on his chest.

Lisa took a deep breath, made a visible effort to relax, and crossed the distance again to sit down on the bed. She grabbed one of the discarded sheets and began wiping Leonard's face with a corner. "It's okay now. It's all over, you're..." She frowned, tossed aside the sheet, and felt his forehead. "God, you're really burning up. Just wait; I'll be right back."

She didn't even seem to notice Cisco as she swept past him. He slouched against the wall, and entertained himself while he waited by calculating how long it would take to smother Leonard with one of the pillows. How easily he could put the man out of his misery. How much damage he could do before Lisa...

 _Dammit_. Even thinking it twisted Cisco's stomach. If any of the crooks were actively threatening him or Dante—if Leonard was in any condition to carry out such threats—he might've tried it in self-defense. But he couldn't sink to that level; he couldn't murder someone who was in no condition to fight back.

He knew it was foolish to feel this way, but he couldn't make himself hurt Lisa like that. And with Dante held hostage downstairs, it would be just as foolish to try.

"You are _damn_ lucky that I like your sister," Cisco muttered.

Leonard gave no sign that he'd heard.

"Here," Lisa said, returning with a couple of pills. "I know it doesn't ever do much for your pain, but it should bring your fever down."

Leonard cracked his eyes back open and he pushed himself up onto one elbow to accept the medicine. He took the pills easily enough, but he couldn't manage the glass and needed Lisa's help to wash them down. Forcing himself to stay up long enough to take even a few sips of water took its toll; his shaking had gotten worse and he was panting, nearly gasping for air, when he dropped back down to his side.

Lisa rubbed his back while he got his breathing under control.

"Lenny? I've got some of that broth that Amber makes. You'll feel better if you eat."

"I'll feel better once I kill Mardon," Leonard mumbled.

Lisa snatched her hand away.

"Mardon?" Cisco repeated. " _Mark_ Mardon? The Weather Wizard?"

Leonard visibly jumped, and he twisted around to peer at Cisco before giving Lisa a questioning look.

Cisco's eyebrows shot up at the man's reaction. "You didn't even realize I was in here, did you?"

"I needed an extra pair of hands," Lisa explained. "It was either him or leave both of them unguarded. Now, about that broth..."

"Just need to sleep," Leonard mumbled.

"Lenny, _please_..."

But there was no help for it. Leonard's breathing evened out, and within seconds he had fallen asleep again.

Lisa sighed, set the bedding to its proper state, and pushed Cisco out of the room and down the stairs ahead of her.

"What about his lunch?" Cisco asked.

"It'll keep," Lisa replied. "He'll eat when he's properly awake."

"But if he's that sick—"

Lisa shook her head. "What was that you said about Mardon? The... what did you call him?"

"Weather Wizard," Cisco repeated. "He's a metahuman who—"

"Controls the weather?" Lisa finished. She frowned. "Hail storms? Tidal waves?"

Cisco nodded. "His brother Clyde had the same power, but apparently Mark's got a lot more control over it." He shrugged. "Clyde didn't have as much time to practice, so who knows how good he could've been now."

Lisa frowned. "Clyde Mardon? Wasn't he the one who got shot by a cop six months back?"

"It was self-defense!" Cisco protested.

"Did I say it wasn't?"

"I... _no_..." Cisco shook his head. "Okay, but why does your brother want to kill Mardon anyway? Did he do something to you guys? Is that where those bruises came from?"

"No," Lisa replied. "I didn't think Lenny even knew who he was. Not really. But when he got sick this morning, he, um... Well, he lost control of his motorcycle, got himself banged up. And when we went to see what happened, that's when he started going on about how Mardon was going to destroy the city with some freak tidal wave..." She shrugged. "Lenny was so sure that he'd need those guns to keep the people we care about safe, to keep Mardon from hurting them. Sometimes it's just easier to humor him, keep him from getting upset, until he's better."

"Tidal wave? He really said that?"

Lisa nodded.

"But... you said he doesn't know who Mardon is. So how could he have known about his powers...?" Cisco frowned. "Wait. Where was your brother when the particle accelerator exploded?"

Lisa scoffed. "If you're trying to say he's some metahuman, don't even bother. I'm not discounting the possibility, but Lenny's had these... these fever dreams since we were kids. And the first time it was _this_ bad was about fifteen years ago."

"What happened then?"

Tears glittered in Lisa's eyes, and Cisco instantly regretted asking. "You saw how he looked at me when he woke up?" she asked quietly.

"Like he didn't even recognize you." Didn't recognize _either_ of them. "You said he was having a nightmare—"

"The first time he got that sick he pulled a gun on me," Lisa said.

Several details clicked into place. Mick's rules about Leonard's weapons. Lisa's fear. That vague 'something' they both thought might happen if she came up here alone.

"You didn't need help with the _food_ ," Cisco realized, "you needed help in case he tried to hurt you."

Lisa nodded.

Leonard's clear irritation when Mick enforced those rules. "And he doesn't even know that he _has_ tried to hurt you."

"We've been told not to tell him... it could destroy him if he knew."

And _actually_ hurting her wouldn't? "And it never occurred to you he needed a doctor?"

Lisa's eyes went wide and she slapped her forehead. "You're absolutely right, what _was_ I thinking? How could I have missed something so obvious—"

Cisco flushed. "Okay, okay," he said, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Doctor doesn't know what's wrong with him, either."

"Doctor _sss_ ," she replied, extending the hissing 's'.

"But if it means keeping you safe..." Cisco protested. "There's got to be someone who can treat him."

Lisa shook her head. "He usually recovers in an hour or two. There's never really been anything for a doctor to check into. And where they sent him that first time..." She looked away, but not before Cisco saw the tears begin to fall.

"What? What happened the first time? Lisa, what kind of treatment could possibly be worse than letting him _hurt_ you?"

"They didn't treat him, Cisco. They _tortured_ him. Studied him like some kind of science experiment. None of that would've happened if we'd taken care of him ourselves." She sniffed. "He was trapped there for nearly three years before Mick found a way to get him back. I can't do that to him again."

Lisa was fighting not to show anguish in front of him, her prisoner... and she was losing that fight.

Cisco, in turn, had to fight the impulse to show her any sympathy. He only barely resisted by telling himself that it was all an act, that Leonard's sudden illness wasn't nearly as bad as it looked, though he couldn't imagine why she would bother when the man was already using Dante to force him to build those guns.

But the look Mick gave him on seeing them come down the stairs had him rapidly modifying that assessment. From the look on the arsonist's face, he not only believed Lisa's grief was real, he was ready to blame Cisco for it. Strange that something as simple as letting Lisa give him a quick hug and a murmured "Thank you" could keep him alive.

But Dante saw the hug and glared at Cisco with nearly as much anger as he showed their kidnappers.

Cisco shook his head. Dante's reaction was completely unexpected, and he wasn't sure he wanted to try to analyze it. All he wanted was to get out of there and leave the family drama behind... but right now that meant finishing the guns and convincing the crooks to let the two of them go.

—

True to Lisa's word, Leonard came downstairs less than an hour later, looking worn out and a little shaky, but showing no other sign that Cisco's untrained eye could see that he'd recently been sick.

"Oh look at that, it's the walking dead," Cisco muttered.

Leonard merely gave him an odd look and gestured for Mick and Lisa to join him in the foyer.

The three criminals didn't stop arguing until the guns were finally finished.

* * *

 **Next chapter:  
The guns are finished,  
I resort to Google Translate to make Cisco and Dante argue right in front of Len (and mention in passing why Dante reacted the way he did on seeing that hug),  
And then, of course, Len and Lisa prepare to hit the Santinis.  
**

 **Linked fics:  
The last time Len's sickness was that bad, and the nature of the "treatment" Lisa described, to be covered in the prequel fic What Could Have Been.  
The exact same "treatment" is also given in the first chapter of Captain Cold and the Legion of Doom.  
**


	7. Change of Plans

**In which the guns are finished, Cisco and Dante argue about Cisco's refusal to smother Len with a pillow, and Len and Lisa go after the Santinis.  
**

 **A note on the argument between Cisco and Dante:  
One, I don't know Spanish. Oh, I can count to ten and say a few other random words, the same as anyone else who doesn't know the language (I'm _much_ better in German but I'd still need a lot of work before I could pass as anything but a tourist), but I have no functional fluency.  
Two, despite this lack on my part, I decided to give their dialogue in Spanish because it just looked... odd, to me, to have them arguing completely in English, with nothing but dialogue tags to tell otherwise, and have them not expect Len to understand a word they're saying.  
Three, I originally got my translations from Google Translate. I know the system isn't perfect (like most computer-generated translations), but I figured I have to start somewhere and it seemed like as good a start as any. To be completely honest, my original plan was to post the chapter with the Google translated version, and this here note, and edit as I go if and when readers offered corrections. Lovely thing about digital publishing, ain't it? ;)  
Four... that plan, as it turned out, was unnecessary. One reader saw the mention of Google Translate at the end of the previous chapter and offered to do the corrections for me before the chapter was even ready to post. So amid the other edits I needed to make the chapter upload-worthy, I now have riversunshine's translations. Thank ya much!**

 **Amber (mentioned in passing) copyright to me.  
All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

Leonard, Lisa, and Mick waited out in the foyer and listened to the two brothers arguing.

"Right now my skills are the only things keeping us alive, so if I were you I would shut up," Cisco was saying.

" _You_ shut up," Dante snapped.

Leonard lifted one eyebrow, but he knew better than to comment on the siblings' bickering when his own sibling was standing right next to him. Lisa could tell stories enough about their own fights, to anyone who would listen, if he gave her that opening.

He shook his head and opened the door, interrupting whatever retort Cisco might have given next.

"Ah! There she is!" Mick said. He walked over and picked up the heat gun, lost in his admiration. "I missed this baby."

"Here it is," Cisco said. He stepped away from the table and wrapped his arms around his sides. "All finished. Are you going to let us go now?"

Leonard examined his new cold gun without touching it. It looked fine, but something felt off. "You know, I took the first gun you made me apart dozens of times. Learned how it ticked, what went where." He caught Cisco's eye and gestured at the gun.

Cisco unfolded his arms and took a single piece off of the gun.

Leonard snatched the piece out of his hand. "Thought you could tamper with the firing pin without me noticing?" he asked. "Nice try, kid." It was a small bit of sabotage, easily fixed, but it could have spelled disaster if he hadn't had that feeling. He made a quick adjustment and activated the gun. "Yes."

"Lenny? Where's _my_ gun?" Lisa asked. She pouted. "Girl's gotta defend herself. Besides, why should you two have all the fun?"

Leonard smiled. "My sister needs a weapon. Something that suits her personality."

"Make me something pretty and toxic," Lisa added with a grin. "Like me. How about something with... gold?"

"Gold?" Cisco scoffed. "What, am I an alchemist or something? Those two guns use an electric charge and a chemical reaction to force a temperature change on the target; I can't just _make_ gold that way."

"Oh, not _gold_ , gold, silly," Lisa replied. "Robbing banks would be no fun if I could make my own gold just by pulling a trigger. But something that _looks_ like gold..."

Cisco sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll... I will think of something."

Lisa grinned, gave Cisco a quick kiss on the cheek, and followed Mick back out to watch him show off his new gun.

Leonard tried not to laugh at the kid's embarrassment. He tossed the cold gun back to the table and sat down to massage his temples. He didn't _quite_ have to pretend, not even to hide his amusement; his headache absolutely refused to go away.

Cisco caught the grin before he could hide it and glared at him.

"Debería haberte sofocado con tu almohada cuando tuve la oportunidad," the kid muttered in Spanish.

 _I should've smothered you with your pillow when I had the chance._

"En realidad tuviste esa oportunidad?" Dante snapped. "Y tú no la tomaste? Demasiado ocupado con tu novia..." He looked at Leonard and sneered. "O tu _novio_?"

 _You actually had that chance? And you didn't take it? Too busy with your girlfriend... or your_ boyfriend _?_

Leonard closed his eyes and ground his fingers in harder, seeking that elusive relief.

"Es eso lo que crees que sucedió?" Cisco spluttered. "No quería estar cerca de él!"

 _Is that what you think happened? I didn't want to be anywhere near him!_

Dante scoffed. "Si tuviera la oportunidad de eliminar uno de ellos, no hubiera dudado."

 _If I had a chance to take one of them out, I wouldn't have hesitated._

"Y por supuesto, el hijo perfecto se habría salido con la suya," Cisco mumbled.

 _And of course the perfect son would've gotten away with it._

"Al menos yo no estaría sentado esperando para ver qué más planean hacer con nosotros! Al menos yo—"

 _At least I wouldn't be sitting around waiting to see what else they plan to do with us! At least I—_

"Al menos estarías muerto antes de que me dieras otro dolor de cabeza," Leonard interrupted. He opened his eyes to glare at the two brothers.

 _At least you'd be dead before you gave me another headache._

Dante froze.

"Alégrate de que Mick y Lisa no puedan entenderlos," Leonard continued, "o _ambos_ estarían muertos incluso por sugerirlo."

 _Be glad Mick and Lisa can't understand you, or you'd_ both _be dead for even suggesting it._

Two pairs of eyes stared at Leonard in horror.

He smirked. "Sorprendido? Una de las ventajas de una memoria eidética; No tengo que pasar tanto tiempo memorizando reglas y traducciones... Se me han dado fáciles los idiomas desde que tenía diez años."

 _Surprised? One of the perks of an eidetic memory; I don't have to spend so much time memorizing rules and translations... I've found languages easy since I was ten._

Leonard shrugged. "De todos modos, no habría funcionado si lo hubieras intentado... Es decir, estoy seguro de que habrías hecho algo de daño. Incluso podría haber sido permanente. Pero no es rápido, no como lo ves en la televisión; No hubieras podido matarme antes de que Lisa te atrapara..."

 _Anyway, it wouldn't have worked. If you had tried... I'm sure you would've done some damage. Might even have been permanent. But it's not quick, not like you see on TV; you wouldn't have been able to kill me before Lisa caught you..._

"Y Dante y yo habríamos pagado el precio," Cisco said.

 _And Dante and me would both have paid the price._

Leonard nodded.

Cisco began tinkering with the tools again.

Leonard waited, fighting to keep the grin from his face.

A few minutes passed, then Cisco stopped what he was doing, his eyes opened wide and his face turning an interesting shade of green. "Oh dios! Tú lo oíste llamarte mi _novio_!"

 _Oh god! You heard him call you my_ boyfriend _!_

Leonard gave up the fight and started laughing. "Don't worry, kid," he said in English when he could speak again. "Me and Lisa don't share _that_ much."

"So glad _one_ of us is amused," Cisco muttered.

"What aren't we sharing?" Lisa asked. She and Mick walked in. "What's so funny?"

Leonard shook his head and kept laughing.

"Come on," Mick said, "let us in on the joke, would ya?"

"Yeah, Lenny, what'd they say?"

"Nothing important," Leonard replied. "I just love when people think they can pull one over on me in another language, that's all."

"You don't usually love it _this_ much," Lisa said. She sighed. "Never mind, Mick, he's in one of his moods. He's not going to tell us anything."

—

"You sure you're feeling all right?" Lisa asked.

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said. "For the ninety-sixth time, I'm feeling fine." At least while she was driving she couldn't keep giving him that look.

Much.

Lisa shrugged. "It's just... you never change your timetable. The original plan was to hit the Santinis tomorrow night. With _Mick_."

"The original plan didn't include these guns," Leonard replied. "Or prisoners. And I _rarely_ change my timetable because most of my plans depend on that kind of precision. This one is more flexible; the plan will work the same whether we hit them tonight or tomorrow."

Not to mention tomorrow was that damned storm. If he hadn't felt so weak all day, he could've gone after Mardon already. But now the most he could hope for was to find Amber and get the four of them out of the city before then.

He shivered. An instinct for danger was one thing, but to be dead certain he'd "remembered" something that he _knew_ had never happened... maybe Lisa was right. Maybe he _was_ still too sick to do this.

"You're absolutely sure..."

"I. Am. _Sure_."

Lisa shook her head, but there was no more time to argue. They had arrived at the casino.

Leonard jumped out of the car as soon as it rolled to a near stop, ignoring Lisa's shout of protest, and checked the cold gun's position under his parka. He waved to her and went inside while she looked for a parking spot.

He looked around. Not bad. Not much challenge to the games—even the card games depended more on luck than skill—but not bad for a simple casino. It might be fun to own one of these himself someday.

He didn't get to sight-see for long before someone recognized him.

"You killed my brother!" Frank Santini yelled from across the room. The man approached with a few of his third-rate bouncers. "You shouldn't have messed with my family."

Leonard snorted. _Right_... as if Vincent wouldn't have killed him first. But that was typical of their sort; _anything_ that kept them from getting what they wanted, even self-defense, was somehow worse than anything they ever did. Leonard was a killer, true, but at least he acknowledged that what he did was wrong. But people like the Santinis believed that anything they wanted was automatically theirs, and to hell with anyone who disagreed.

It had always been that way. Lewis had had a nasty habit of taking jobs with their sort when he wasn't busy with his own poorly planned schemes, and those jobs nearly always ended with Leonard doing all of the dirty work. The Santinis had hated Leonard and his crew for years, ever since he'd walked away from his father's contract with them. Ever since Mick had killed the hit man they'd sent after Lisa to punish Leonard for that supposed betrayal.

Pity Lewis was in jail; an 'accidentally' misaimed shot would be worth any trouble that it caused.

"That's funny," Lisa said from the other side of the room. Frank and his bouncers turned around to face her. "I was going to say the same thing about ours."

One of the bouncers pointed a gun at her.

Lisa, bold to the point of recklessness as always, waited until it was aimed in her direction before she pulled the trigger on her own weapon. The bouncer was instantly covered in what appeared to be solid gold.

Leonard caught a peculiar chemical smell, and reminded himself to ask Lisa to let him examine the gun later.

"All that glitters," she said with a smile.

A half a second passed before the casino's patrons realized their danger, and they began screaming and running for the exits. Leonard let them by, and shoved a few off in the right direction when it looked like they might start trampling each other in their panic.

Another couple of bouncers tried to sneak up on him. He froze one of the hanging decorations into a giant snowflake and sent it crashing down on the pair, taking them out of the fight instantly.

Then there was no more time to pick off the enemy one by one. The Santinis finally figured out that the fight was serious, that even without Mick to protect them, the siblings _would not_ be cowed or manipulated, and the thugs began shooting from behind the gaming tables.

Leonard ducked behind a table that the panicked crowd had knocked over and returned fire while Lisa fled to join him.

"This is _sick_!" Lisa exclaimed with a grin.

Leonard forced himself to grin back. Did she _have_ to phrase it like that? "Well, you wanted us to spend more time together!"

The shots were getting closer. Even the table they hid behind couldn't shield them forever; the bullets began to pass through where the enemy managed to hit close to the same spot.

Lisa peeked over the table and shot at one of the thugs, but she had to duck back down too quickly to aim properly and all she hit was the roulette wheel in front of him.

Leonard stood up quickly to shoot another bouncer, one foolish enough to abandon the protection of the gaming tables...

And a bolt of lightning zipped through the room and everyone vanished.

"How many times are we going to go through this, Snart?" the Flash complained.

Leonard growled under his breath. Of all the times for the Flash to show up... He jumped back up and aimed his gun at the speedster. "Until the best man wins!" he snarled.

But before Leonard could fire, the lightning zipped behind the table and back. In less time than it took to blink, the Flash was holding Lisa and pointing her own gun under her chin.

Lisa gasped at the unexpected move. And from the look on her face, the Flash was hurting her.

"Drop the gun!" the Flash snapped.

 _Damn it!_ So much for not letting anyone manipulate him.

Leonard gritted his teeth and pointed his cold gun away, but he refused to put it down. He put his hands up and walked out from behind the table. "We both know that _you're_ not going to do anything to her," he said... except he wasn't quite sure the 'hero' was bluffing. Certainly he'd antagonized the Flash quite a few times, but this aggression was completely unexpected. "Oh by the way, meet my baby sister. Lisa, Flash; Flash, Lisa."

Leonard could practically see the wheels turning in the speedster's head as he gave Lisa a quick look over, and he filed the reaction away for later use.

Lisa gave the Flash a small flirtatious smile.

Leonard rolled his eyes. His baby sister was incorrigible. "Cisco's been very, very busy," he continued as he walked closer to the Flash. "Unless you want me to mail small frozen pieces of him back to his family, I'd take your hands off her."

The Flash might have been bluffing about threatening Lisa... or he might not have been. But Leonard _never_ bluffed about protecting her.

The Flash finally came to the same decision and pushed Lisa away from him. "Let him go, Snart," he said, his voice shaken.

"I'll think about it," Leonard replied, and he walked away.

Lisa blew a kiss at the Flash before she turned around to follow her brother.

* * *

 **At this point in time-the very beginning of 2017-I have finished _writing_ Flash Sideways. (Except for Confessions and a few one-shots, it's the only fic that's done.)  
However, future chapters are still in need of editing before I can post them, so no mass uploads. ;) I'll reserve that for getting my AO3 account caught up with what's posted here.**

 **Next chapter:  
The tricky part as I try to remain true to canon, _and_ reconcile Len's behavior in the episode with how I've been writing him so far (and will continue to write him), _and_ maintain some sympathy for the character... without just pretending that what he did to Cisco and Dante wasn't as horrible as it was.  
Otherwise known as, the part where Len forces Cisco to reveal the Flash's identity.**

 **Linked fics:** **  
I don't know if eidetic memory would really go so far as to make it "easy" to learn languages (the whole "don't need to memorize rules and translations" bit), but in my headcanon, Len's been able to do a lot of things since he was ten that he attributes to his capacity to memorize things. He finds out in another story that, while the eidetic memory might be a contributing factor to some of his skills, it is by no means the _only_ factor involved.  
**

 **Also, random curiosity:**  
 **"It had always been that way. Lewis had had a nasty habit of taking jobs with their sort when he wasn't busy with his own poorly planned schemes, and those jobs nearly always ended with Leonard doing all of the dirty work. The Santinis had hated Leonard and his crew for years, ever since he'd walked away from his father's contract with them. Ever since Mick had killed the hit man they'd sent after Lisa to punish Leonard for that supposed betrayal."  
I feel like I've already seen that particular theory in a fanfic somewhere... that Len used to actually work for the Santinis and a big part of the hatred between the two stemmed from him refusing to work for them any longer. But... _is_ there such a fanfic somewhere? Did I really read it, or was it some elaborate dream?**


	8. Recognition

**In which Len forces Cisco to betray the Flash's identity, and thoroughly confuses the poor kid in the process.  
And apparently I accidentally ret-conned a scene in my AU fic titled... Alternate Universe. (Or I could just have it that Henry didn't recognize him in that fic and Len wasn't in any condition to realize who he was.)  
**

 **This one was a fairly tricky chapter for me. Reason being, I've been writing Len as a (hopefully) sympathetic character, someone who's maybe not as bad as he wants the world to think (see Henry's question in this chapter)... but what he did to Cisco and Dante _was_ horrible. The tricky part was figuring out how best to acknowledge how horrible it was without writing this chapter as a complete mood whiplash-sympathetic character to cold-hearted villain and back again.**  
 **Not completely sure my solution was the best option, but it's the one I went with.**

 **Amber (once again, mentioned in passing) copyright to me.  
** **All other characters mentioned or seen this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

If the heist had been a problem, then the safe house was a disaster zone. Leonard walked in the front door to hear the sound of glass breaking, yelling, and flesh hitting flesh. His gut twisted as unpleasant memories forced their way to the surface.

He rushed downstairs to find the table broken, Dante half-conscious, and Lewis—no, Lewis was in jail—to find _Mick_ trying to beat the shit out of Cisco.

"Mick!" he called. "Mick, calm down!"

Mick wasn't stopping.

" _Mick_!" he said again. He activated his cold gun and aimed it at the arsonist. "We _need_ them!"

Mick finally stopped and glared up at Leonard.

Leonard flinched at the look at the arsonist's face. He forced himself to stand his ground, but he couldn't shake the memory of seeing Lewis, far too many times, with that same expression.

"Mick, baby," Lisa said. She stepped in front of Leonard and pulled Mick to his feet, away from Cisco. "Sounds like you're hungry. How about you and I grab some dinner?"

Leonard couldn't force himself to put the gun down until he'd heard the front door slam shut.

Cisco rolled himself over and gasped at the pain.

"I like you, kid," Leonard said. "You're smart, you pulled yourself up from humble beginnings. You seem like a good brother."

Cisco pushed himself to his knees and stared up at Leonard. "You, too," he said.

"Debatable," Leonard replied. Lewis would never think so, anyway. If that man's latest plan had worked out, _Leonard_ would be the one in jail right now—the man was shit at everything else, but Lewis knew what he was doing when it came to framing people—and Lisa would probably be dead. Protecting her was more important than any loot. "You answer one question for me, I'll let you and your brother walk."

Cisco nodded. "What's the question?"

"The Flash... who is he?"

A question he should've asked a long time ago. He made it a point to know who his enemies were under _any_ circumstances. He'd let the Flash slide for so long, instinct telling him that since the speedster was clearly one of the good guys, learning his identity would be more trouble than it was worth.

But tonight, that instinct had failed him. Tonight, the speedster had let his aggression get the better of him and he had tried to _hurt_ Lisa. Bluff or no bluff, Leonard couldn't let that pass. He had to know who had just threatened his baby sister.

Cisco's look of fear turned to one of horror. Because he couldn't answer, or because he didn't want to? He shrugged and shook his head. "I swear," he said, as his tears began to fall, "he always wears a mask."

Leonard considered his options, and most of them made him nauseated. He'd killed before to protect Lisa, and would do it again no matter the cost. But causing pain for its own sake was something _Lewis_ would do. And Cisco and Dante hadn't threatened her; they didn't deserve any of that pain.

But protecting Lisa was more important. He could take a little self-loathing from playing one of Lewis' cards; letting her get hurt again because he refused to act was another matter.

He shot his cold gun at Dante's hands before he could talk himself out of it.

Dante screamed in pain.

"No!" Cisco screamed. "No, _stop_!" He crawled over to hover protectively over his brother.

"This is first-degree frostbite," Leonard explained. He spoke calmly, barely concealing his disgust at what he'd done. He walked over to crouch in front of Cisco, and tried to ignore the injured man crying beneath him. "Your brother could recover with proper treatment. If not, all his tendons, blood vessels, and nerves will freeze. His fingers will need to be amputated. No more concertos for the Ramon family holidays. Now tell me, who is the Flash?"

The look Cisco gave Leonard was pure anguish, but he still didn't answer.

Leonard debated firing another shot, but he decided his point had been made. Either Cisco was too good at bluffing, or he was too scared, now, to even try to lie. If he continued to insist he didn't know, then he probably didn't know.

But if he _did_ know...

Leonard aimed the gun again, but he kept his fingers away from the trigger.

" _Wait_!" Cisco cried out. He blocked the gun with his own body. "Can't I please get him treatment first? I promise I'll tell you everything I know."

Leonard thought about the offer for precisely one and a half seconds, grabbed Cisco by the back of the neck, and marched him out of the room.

Cisco pleaded the whole way, his words broken into incoherent sobbing the instant he could no longer see Dante.

He didn't shut up until Leonard shoved him into the downstairs bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet.

"You can talk while I grab what he needs," Leonard said. He reached for a package of bandages, but he didn't take them down just yet.

Cisco remained silent.

"Come on, kid," Leonard said. "If I start guessing, I start amputating. And maybe I won't stop with his fingers; _maybe_ I'll stop with his heart. Now, when I told the Flash Lisa was my sister, it meant something to him. He _recognized_ her. Why?"

"His... his name is Barry Allen," Cisco finally said.

"Your drinking buddy," Leonard said. "When Lisa found you."

Cisco nodded.

Leonard took the bandages down and tossed them at the kid.

Cisco fumbled the package but managed to catch it despite his wrists still being tied together.

"Hmm..." Leonard frowned. "Barry Allen. Name sounds familiar." He took down some medicines and salves and tossed a few more items at Cisco.

Cisco shrugged. "He works for the CCPD," he replied. "Forensic scientist. You probably—"

Leonard shook his head. "Wait... Henry's kid? _Doctor_ Allen?"

Dammit, it _would_ be his kid.

Cisco's mouth dropped open. "How...?"

"The man's been at Iron Heights for fifteen years," Leonard said. "You think I haven't met him at least once? That I haven't seen the kid visiting him, the only other person who knew Henry was innocent?"

"Only... other... wait, you _know_ he's innocent! And you've never told anybody?"

"Who would I tell, kid? More to the point, who would believe me?" Leonard sighed. "Not like I've got any evidence, anyway. Just a gut instinct. No judge would take that over fingerprints on a knife." He hesitated, then turned to watch the kid's reaction closely. "Best I could ever do was keep the other inmates from sticking a shiv in him," he added.

Cisco did not disappoint. He had barely recovered from the last two surprises, and if anything, his jaw seemed to have dropped even further at this one.

But the kid recovered faster this time. His eyes narrowed. "Why would _you_ protect him?" he asked.

Leonard turned back to the medicine cabinet as he decided how to answer. Henry was innocent, no matter what the law said; he didn't deserve to be in a place like Iron Heights. He didn't deserve to miss his son growing up, to miss so much of his own life. He sure as hell didn't deserve to have every punk out to make a name for themselves seeing him as an easy target.

And Leonard just couldn't stomach the thought of an innocent man dying in there with nobody but a kid to believe in him.

 _You're a good man, Leo_ , Henry had said to him the last time they'd been in prison together. _What will it take for you to see it? To let_ others _see it?_

 _Ask me again when you're walking free_ , had been Leonard's weary reply. The man had long since worn down every other argument he'd tried to use. Not that Leonard expected that to ever happen; he _wanted_ Henry to walk free, but the system was stacked too well against him.

Leonard shook off the memory before he could taint it with the present. He hadn't been a good person for a long time; a good person would never do what he had just done, no matter what his reasons were. Some stranger trying to treat him like a son, trying to act like the father Lewis should've been, could never change that.

And if he tried to give _that_ as his reason, Cisco would never believe a word of it. Not that he would blame the kid for thinking him a liar.

"I owe him," Leonard finally said. "Look, a couple of inmates thought they'd make an example of me, most of the guards turned a blind eye..." He shrugged. "Henry's the one who fixed me up. He kept me alive long enough for the ones who actually _cared_ about their jobs to get me to the infirmary. Ever since, I... I guess I just got used to looking out for him."

That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough. The Santinis hated him for walking away, certainly, but not so much that they would have wasted a potential resource by killing him. Not back then. Their thugs had attacked him to send a message, nothing more. But _he_ hadn't known that; to him, it had been just like that first day in Juvie... but with no Mick to protect him. Nor had Leonard known, back then, that anyone could bleed so much from a wound that wasn't even fatal.

The scar didn't bother him anymore—just one more to add to his collection—but he still shivered at the memory.

He caught the kid staring. "We're wasting time," he growled. He picked up the medicines and walked away.

They made it back to the dining room and an unconscious Dante before Cisco spoke again.

"Why do you want to know all this?" Cisco asked quietly. "As smart as you are, you gotta realize... once you let me go, I'm _going_ to tell him what happened. You're not going to catch him off-guard that way, not unless you..." His eyes darted from the bandages, to the medicines, to the gun. Confusion warred with fear.

Leonard shook his head. "If it had been some masked metafreak who pointed a gun at your brother," he said, before Cisco could give himself the wrong idea, "wouldn't _you_ want to know who it was?" He sat down in front of Dante, selected a salve from his pile of medicines, and began applying it gently to the young man's hands.

"He wouldn't do that!"

No excuses, no reminder that Leonard and Lisa were the bad guys, that Barry was doing his job, nothing. Just "he wouldn't do that."

Leonard didn't even pause. "I would've thought so, too," he admitted. "Seemed more my style, not something a _hero_ would've done. Bandage?" He held out a hand; Cisco gave him the package, and he went right back to work tending to Dante's fingers. "But there's security footage that says otherwise."

—

Leonard drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He'd parked only two blocks from the hospital, called the ER from Cisco's phone, and now the three of them waited for an ambulance.

"This other speedster I've been hearing rumors about," Leonard said. "The one in yellow..."

"Believe me," Cisco replied, "I _wish_ I knew who he was."

"Do I need to worry about him?"

"How the hell should I know?" Cisco asked. "Well... enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? You'd probably get along with him great. As long as you're not worried about competition."

Leonard lifted one eyebrow. " _Competition_?"

"He's out for the Flash's blood. None of us knows why."

"Hmm... so you're saying I _might_ want to watch my back."

Cisco snorted. "Hardly. You two want to kill each other, have at it. I might even root for you... but only for _Lisa's_ sake."

—

The paramedics arrived quickly, and took Dante in hand. They took one look at Cisco's bruises and told him to get in the ambulance, but he shook his head and insisted he had to get home to his family.

They never even gave Leonard a second look.

"Home, then?" Leonard asked once the ambulance had driven away.

Cisco shook his head again. "Star Labs."

Leonard shrugged and drove to the labs as requested. He drove off again as soon as Cisco got out of the car, not even waiting to see if the kid went inside.

When he decided he was far enough away, he pulled a burner phone from his pocket and quickly dialed a number.

The phone rang three times. "Hello?" Lisa said on the other end.

"Don't freak out when you get back to the safe house," Leonard said. "But you'll want to grab your things and leave quickly."

"Why exactly would we freak out?" she asked.

"The kids are gone," Leonard replied.

"They _what_!" Mick snapped.

"I took them to the hospital," Leonard snarled. Technically true... enough. The other two didn't need to know he'd taken Cisco right to their enemy's front door. "I'll be keeping an eye on things, making sure they recover, so don't either of you _dare_ try anything stupid like pay them a visit. Though if _someone_ had kept a lid on his temper, I could've treated everything right from the safe house!"

"It won't be hard for Cisco to tell the cops where we had him," Lisa said. "So we run in, grab our bikes and tools, and get going. Someone will have to warn Amber to expect company."

"Thank you so much for volunteering," Leonard said. He loved the shape-shifter dearly, adored her like the kid she so often pretended to be, but she was solid proof that looks could be deceiving. No matter how sweet a face she presented to the outside world, Amber could be downright _terrifying_ when she was pissed off.

"But I didn't..." Lisa protested. "Ah, _shit_."

When he got back to the safe house, he took care to follow his own advice. In, grab his tools, and out again. Take the bike, leave the car behind.

He got on the bike... and stopped. No, he needed one more bit of insurance.

He headed back inside and raced up to the attic where most of the computers were kept. It only took a few minutes to set up the uplink.

Amber wouldn't like him using her protection this way, but he knew she wasn't likely to do anything about it. She could easily disable any trap he set up if she wanted to. But she wouldn't disable this one, not unless he needed her to. Not unless leaving it in place would put Barry in more danger than even Leonard anticipated. She loved the thief's games nearly as much as he did and would more likely let this one sit, yet another marker to hold over him.

* * *

 **Next chapter:  
We finish off the events of Rogue Time, and I give Len one more time-displaced memory to fight with.**

 **Personal headcanon:  
One, just as the last chapter mentioned that Lewis had a nasty habit of taking jobs with people like the Santinis and making Len do the dirty work, so, too, do I believe that Lewis had an equally nasty habit of framing other people for his own crimes. Namely his own son. I figure Len's too good at what he does by now to leave behind evidence that easily, but that if there's anything Lewis learned from being a cop, it's how the system works, and he likes pinning the blame on Len as a way to keep him in line. It wouldn't take long for Len to develop a serious dislike for _anyone_ being punished for something they didn't actually do, and that instinct that tells him that Henry is totally innocent makes it worse.  
Two, Len's grandfather is the one who nicknamed him Leo... not either of his parents. And just like Lisa is the only one who calls him "Lenny" (well, except for a little old Korean lady he didn't want to be rude to ;) read Lovesick by Crimson1 to see what I mean), Len only allows a few people to call him "Leo." Those people would be: his grandfather of course, Amber... and Henry Allen. In fact, the reason _Henry_ is allow to call him "Leo" is the same as that Korean lady calling him Lenny... he'd overheard the nickname early on and Len didn't want to be rude.**


	9. Stalemate

**In which Len and crew make one more attempt against the Santinis.**

 **All characters this chapter copyright to DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

Three riders waited near the highway for the truck to come into sight. They didn't even bother concealing themselves; the Santinis knew they were coming, and stealth would take more time.

It was time to finish the job.

The semi passed the exit where the three criminals waited, and the two bikes soon followed.

The back of the truck opened up. The Santinis' thugs picked up shotguns and began firing at the riders, but trying to maintain their balance in the moving vehicle meant most of the shots went wild. Still, _some_ caution was required; an accidental hit would be just as deadly as a deliberate one.

Lisa fired her gold gun towards the truck and took out one of the shotguns, nearly taking out the gunman with it.

One of the other thugs dropped his gun to pull his ally back into the truck. Mick took advantage of the distraction, and sped up between shots until he could reach the tires with his heat gun's flame.

The truck began fishtailing, threatening to turn into a spinout, and the thugs could no longer keep their balance and continue firing at the same time.

The trio dumped their speed to keep from slamming into the out-of-control truck.

Leonard aimed his cold gun...

Then he felt a rush of vertigo, and found himself deposited somewhere deep in the woods. He wobbled with the unexpected change— _I am not sick!_ —and quickly found his balance.

He spared a quick moment to hope that his sudden absence hadn't caused Lisa any problems. His baby sister was quick to adapt, almost as quick as he was, but the bike's operator going missing while the bike was speeding down the highway might be a bit much to handle.

But there was no time to do more than hope. His adversary was standing only a few feet away, staring at him. "Good to see you," Leonard said, removing his helmet and tossing it aside, " _Barry_."

The Flash removed his cowl to reveal what, even in the darkness, was clearly an extraordinarily young man. Older, obviously, than the last time Leonard had seen him visiting Henry, but far younger than he had anticipated for the hero.

"We have to talk," Barry said. "I know Cisco told you who I am."

"Can't really blame the kid for giving you up," Leonard said. He removed his night shades to see better, now that he didn't have the truck's taillights shining in his face. "You or his brother? Come on, I put him in a tight spot! Same kind I got _you_ in right now. Can't really _stop_ me now that I know who you are."

"I _could_ speed you to my own private prison," Barry replied, "where you'll never see the light of day."

"You _could_ ," Leonard admitted, "but then I won't be around to stop my own private uplink that will broadcast your identity to the world! So! The million-dollar question: what to do with me now, Barry Allen?"

"I won't let you keep stealing whatever you want, whenever you feel like it. It needs to end."

"Can't do that. It's what I do."

"Then find a new line of work!" Barry snapped.

Leonard shrugged. "Don't want to."

"Why is that?"

"The same reason you keep running after guys like me," Leonard replied. "The adrenaline, the thrill of the chase."

Barry shook his head.

"I love this game, and I'm _very good_ at it!"

 _All you'll_ ever _be good at_ , his father's voice said from some distant memory. Leonard shivered; his father had disparaged him time and again while growing up, sabotaged his every effort to learn anything worthwhile besides stealing. But he was quite sure they'd never had _that_ argument.

"Then go play it somewhere else. Leave Central City."

"Can't do that, either. I love it here." He sniffed, taking in the surrounding air, and waved theatrically. "This city is my home."

 _Home?_ his father's voice scoffed. _People like us don't have homes. All you'll ever have is some shithole until you've robbed everyone blind, then you'll just have to find another shithole to hide in._

Leonard gritted his teeth. Where the hell were these "memories" coming from? These arguments with his dad... they weren't real. They were the same kind of thing that had gotten him in trouble fifteen years ago.

"You've seen what I can do," Barry said. He stepped forward, completely oblivious to Leonard's internal struggle. "You _know_ that I can stop you. You want to keep pushing your luck? Go for it. But from here on out, no one else dies; if you're as good as you say you are, you don't have to kill anyone to get what you want."

 _If you're as good as you say you are..._ his father's voice sneered.

Why the fuck wouldn't that voice shut up?

"That's true," Leonard admitted. He wasn't entirely sure what he was replying to... Barry's challenge, or his father's scorn.

 _Barry_ , he told himself. He definitely wanted to be replying to Barry.

"And if you, or _anyone_ in your Rogues Gallery goes near _any_ of my friends or family again... I don't care _who_ you tell my identity to. I'm putting you away."

Leonard decided Barry wasn't bluffing. "I guess your secret's safe... _Flash_. For now."

He took a good long look, memorizing Barry's every feature, before the kid pulled his cowl back up. The kid _was_ familiar... and not just because he was Henry's son. _Had_ they met before, besides those prison visits... or was that some other memory that had never happened?

"Oh... I don't suppose you'd give me a ride back to town..." Leonard said. "Would you?"

The Flash merely grinned at his audacity and sped off, leaving Leonard all alone in the woods.

"The Rogues," Leonard said. " _Cute_." He smiled. "Okay, _Flash_ , where did you leave me?" He walked towards what appeared to be a sign on the other side of the clearing.

The sign was old and faded, and even with the moonlight it was too dark out to read it properly. He pulled out his phone and used the screen to get some extra light. "Okay, then..." He dialed a familiar number.

" _Lenny_? Lenny, what happened?" Lisa's voice sounded shaken.

"Are you and Mick all right?" Leonard asked. "Are either of you hurt?"

"I... you just disappeared at eighty miles an hour. I'm a little shaken up. Nothing hurt but my pride, though." She snickered. "I think _Mick's_ 'pride' hurts a bit more. Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," Leonard replied. "The Flash and I just had a little _chat_ about our working relationship, is all." He glanced back at the sign. "Think either of you are fit to pick me up? It'll be a long walk back to town on my own."

"Okay, where are you?"

Leonard told her the name he'd seen on the sign.

Lisa whistled. " _Damn_ , that's got to be about a hundred miles away. Okay, just... just hang tight. We should get there, um..." The silence stretched on for at least a full minute. " _Ugh_ , whenever we get there. The bikes are in worse shape than we are."

* * *

 **With that, this fic is completed. But the story is far from over. I'm still working on:  
The prequel fic What Could Have Been, which begins in early 2000. This one explores the part of the timeline in which Len actually worked for Tess Morgan and Harrison Wells... and how thoroughly the Reverse Flash screwed things up when he killed the pair of them.  
The sequel fic Enemy of My Enemy, which picks up right where Flash Sideways leaves off and and extends into Rogue Air. Here the Reverse Flash discovers that Len remembers some things he shouldn't.  
And an as-yet-unnamed sequel fic takes place in December 2015 at the same time as Team Flash and Team Arrow's fight against Vandal Savage.  
And assorted other fics that include the Flash Sideways premise as part of my personal headcanon.  
**

 **Linked fics:  
Those memories Len keeps trying to shake off occurred during What Could Have Been.**


End file.
